


Eternal Teenager

by HaemophilusLeona



Series: Edward's Twilight Saga [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Isle Esme, Pre-Canon, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaemophilusLeona/pseuds/HaemophilusLeona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward's story begins in 1918 with his transformation from human to vampire. A canon friendly look at the most influential events of Edward's early life as a vampire, this story will cover the inclusion of Esme into the coven, the purchase of Isle Esme, his rebellion, and the emergence of the red-eyed monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil

**The Devil**

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. That might have been true for some people, but it didn't seem to apply to me. My memories were fading, becoming less clear, not more. Feeling that who I had been was being stripped away from me, I tried desperately to hold on to what little I could recall. The last thing I could be sure of was lying in the hospital, listening to Mom pray while she lay dying beside me. Dad was already dead. I thought I must have died, too, but if so, shouldn't I be in Heaven? Why was I in Hell?

More to the point, why was the Devil apologizing to me? I opened my mouth to ask him, but all that came out was another high pitched scream of pain.

… _sorry!_ "I'm sorry!" he repeated. "Ah, I hope that you will not hate me for this!" _…oh, I'm sorry! …know if …was right… someone hears him! …much longer …this last?_

The Devil's voice was so strange. His whispered words were musical and oddly beautiful. One moment I could hear him clearly, and he sounded like an angel. I supposed that made sense, considering he _was_ a fallen angel, but the next moment it was like he was mumbling, or only saying partial sentences. Frankly, it was annoying.

"Shh, it will be alright, I promise! It will be over soon." _…he even hear me? …lies we always tell our patients…_

It was hard to believe, but the pain kept getting worse. I couldn't think of anything I could have done to deserve this! Grasping at fading images, I pushed past the hospital to the memories of my life. I was a patriotic American, ready and willing to serve God and country once I was old enough. If I could have lived, I'd have joined the army and done my part to protect my home and family. I'd tried to be a good son, done everything I could to make Mom's life easier, tried to please Dad – though I'd often failed to live up to his expectations. But those failures couldn't have been enough to land me in Hell, could they?

The white hot fire had traveled through me from my neck and wrists. It felt like it was _inside_ of me, though I didn't understand how that was possible. I guessed that, in Hell, anything was possible. My fingertips were burning as well as the veins in my arms, my lungs felt like I was breathing fire, my mouth tasted like I had swallowed acid, and even my heart was on fire. Each and every beat pushed the flame farther into my body, searing my veins as it went.

If my heart was still beating, _was_ I dead? If I wasn't, why wasn't the fire being put out?

"Put it out! _Please!_ The fire!" I heard myself beg. "Make it stop!"

"It will stop. I promise," the Devil said. "I'm sorry; you're in pain, I _know_ , but there is no fire. Your body is changing. That's what you're feeling."

" _Lies!"_ I flailed my arm in the direction of his voice, and encountered a cold stone. The force I had put behind the blow shattered a bone in my hand, and I felt the fire rush into the break. I immediately regretted the action as the broken bone gave the spreading fire access to a new part of me. No longer contained in my veins, the white hot burning traveled into my bones and began to turn them into ashes inside of my skin.

The stone I had hit wrapped itself around me, seemed to be clasping my hand. Somehow, the cold only made the contrast of the fire under my skin seem worse. I tried to jerk my hand away, but the stone held me tight, and another stone was placed on my chest over my beating heart.

The Devil was speaking again, I was certain of it, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of my screams. I wasn't begging anymore, knowing it wouldn't do any good. They were just wordless cries of agony that brought no relief.

I wondered again, _Why was I in Hell? What had I done?_

Straining harder to bring my life back into focus, and trying to distract myself from the pain, I concentrated on the patterns I could recall following. I'd gone to church with Mom every Sunday, had confessed my sins to Father Todd, and been absolved. A strain of melody flowed through my mind, and I seemed to see a pattern of white and black stripes. With a flash of insight, I remembered that when old Mrs. Foster had gotten arthritis in her fingers and been unable to play the church organ anymore, I had volunteered to take her place.

Mom had been so proud. My memories of her were becoming clearer as I concentrated on the image of her face. I could see her light green eyes shining at me from the pew while I played, and had felt a glow of pleasure from her approval. I knew pride was a sin, but Father Todd said there was no sin in taking pleasure from singing the Lord's praise, and the same held true for making music in His name. Could he have been wrong?

"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "Forgive me, please!" If the Devil was apologizing to _me_ , maybe he wanted me to apologize to him. My heart was still beating; maybe it wasn't too late for my sins to be forgiven and then this torture would stop.

"You have done nothing wrong. There is nothing to forgive!"

"Then why am I in _Hell?!"_ I growled at him, flailing blindly with my unbroken hand to find something to fight him off with. My hand encountered something that felt like wood – a chair leg, perhaps? – but I was too weak from my illness to lift it. The stone on my chest was holding me down, but I kicked out with my legs, still trying to find the Devil and fight him off.

"Edward," he moaned. "You're not in Hell, I promise!"

"How do you know my name, then, if you aren't the Devil?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Your mother, she asked me to save you – "

My eyes flew open, looking around without seeing. "Mom?!" What was she doing in Hell? She'd been good! "No! She's not here. No! _You're lying!"_ I screamed at him.

He was speaking to me again, the annoying mumbling that would come and go, and seemed to make no sense.

There was a strange image in my mind of another man suffering as I was, but the perspective was all wrong. It was like I was seeing through the other man's eyes, but he was obviously not me. I didn't recognize his surroundings, and had the feeling that the man's pain had ended long ago. The man had been afraid, too, but not of any Devil. He'd been afraid of discovery, and had not screamed like I was doing again.

"Your mother is dead, Edward," he whispered.

"I know," I moaned. I remembered _that._

"But you are _not!"_ he insisted.

I shook my head, not believing the Devil's lies. I _was_ dying. I could feel it! My heart was struggling, beating harder and faster, the fire making it hard for the muscle to do its job. My heart wasn't the only muscle on fire, either. Having turned my veins and bones into ash, I could feel my muscles burning, too. I curled into a ball, my stomach hurting like I was going to be sick. I wished I _could_ vomit, to gain the relief that would come from expelling whatever it was that was burning within me.

How long was eternity? When there was no measure of time, did time even exist anymore? I had been burning for centuries already, surely. Still, the Devil refused to leave my side. Didn't he have other souls to torture? Or maybe… if I wasn't dead – as he insisted – then maybe what I was feeling was my soul being ripped from my body, bit by bit.

I moaned, hating that idea. If my body was still alive, and the Devil was stealing my soul, then this was just the beginning of eternity. Once he took my soul completely, he would have forever to torture me however he wished.

 _No._ I couldn't abide that thought. My soul was _mine!_ With renewed strength born of fear, I fought him, flailing my limbs once more in an effort to find the Devil and drive him away. I began to scream the prayers my mother had taught me, trying to drive him away with the Holy Words I knew as well as my own name. The stone that held my hand tightened and I recognized at last that the stone was _him!_

I curled around and began to beat at the stone, not caring that each blow I landed hurt me more than it seemed to hurt him. He was the Devil! I had to fight him, and that doing so hurt only seemed right. The path to Heaven was one of work and sacrifice, a stair that one had to struggle to climb, where the path to Hell was a slippery slope, and in order to find the way, all a person had to do was to sit idly by and wait.

Mom had told me, "Idle hands are the Devil's tools." And so she had set me to work - in the garden, growing food for our small family, in the house, helping her maintain the various mechanical servants, and at the piano, making music. I had always felt guilty when she had sat me at the piano, though, for it had felt far too much like fun to be considered work.

Well, I would not sit idly by while the Devil stole my soul from me! I kicked at him and hit him with my fist, brought my mouth to where our hands were clasped, and tried to bite him, though my teeth scraped across him like he was marble. My fist kept pounding at him wherever I could reach, until he grabbed my other hand in his stone grip. No longer held down by the stone on my chest, I heaved my legs around, using his own grip as leverage to kick him with both feet.

"Ow! Edward! Stop this! I'm trying to help you!"

"The hell you are!" I felt a thrill of victory. I'd made him say 'ow'! I redoubled my efforts until at last he let me go. The fire never stopped, but now I could get away from the Devil who was surely the source of my burning. Blindly, I squirmed and pushed, trying to make my uncooperative limbs work. Unable to stand, or even rise to my hands and knees, I clawed my way across the ground away from him. I encountered a wall of some sort and began to grope for an edge, but found myself in a corner.

"No," I moaned. He had me cornered. How could I get away? I lay there, trembling in pain and fear, waiting for him to come for me, but I only heard his musical voice. My eyes flew open again when I recognized the words he was speaking.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…"

He was _praying._ Would the Devil pray? _Could_ he? He kept speaking, his voice low and compelling. I flipped over, my blurry eyes scanning the room, and I saw him at last. The Devil was kneeling in the center of the room, and hadn't moved from the place where I had lain. He was pale and golden, and though I couldn't really seem to focus on his features, I thought him the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen.

"…And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away…"

While he prayed, I felt the fire receding, slowly leaving my fingertips and toes. My heart was struggling and my brain was on fire, the burning seeming to focus on the inside of my head. It felt like my skull should explode from the heat of it. I lay on the floor, feeling my strength draining as the fires in the rest of me died.

As my hands and feet grew cold, a numbness overtook me, traveling up my legs and arms until the only things I could feel were my burning lungs as I gasped for breath, my brain, as the fire in my skull turned from white hot to a blinding purple inferno, and my heart. While the muscle stuttered and stumbled, the burning turned into a crushing heaviness, as though he had his fist clenched around it and was squeezing. My breath hitched and I began to sob, certain I was about to die, relieved that it was nearly over at last.

In my mind, my own body swam into view. I could see myself so clearly. I lay on the floor in a corner of a room, staring back into my own eyes. My skin was pale, no longer flushed with fever from my illness, nor cracked and blackened from the burning fire like I would have expected. My clothes were torn into shreds, and through the rips, I could see the same pale almost shimmery color all over me. My hair, which was wild and tangled - and long overdue for a trim - had gone from the dull red I expected to an almost metallic bronze. I saw myself blinking, but the eyes I was looking through never wavered.

A look of confusion crossed my face, and I wondered if my soul had finally left my body and I was watching myself die. How else could I explain that _I_ could see _me?_ I watched as I struggled for a final breath, and heard my heart as it raced. The fire left my lungs and brain and centered on my heart and eyes. I closed them, listening to the heavy, thick beating of my dying heart, until with a final throb, the muscle was still, and I was alive no longer.

Nor was I in any pain.

I didn't seem to be cold, either. The numbness was gone, and I felt an odd tingle, very much aware of my clothes, both where they touched my skin and where they didn't. I wasn't breathing, but I didn't seem to care. Of course not; why should I? I was dead.

Wasn't I?

Well, then, where was Heaven? Of course, that was assuming that I had beaten the Devil off. And if not, then where was Hell? Where _was_ I?

… _can't be dead… He's so still! Wake up. Come on,_ please, _wake up. …can't have gone through all of that for nothing! Come on, Edward, wake up!_

Wanting to groan, I realized the Devil was still there, but there was no air in my lungs with which to make a sound. I frowned, surprised that I _could_ frown. But I was definitely frowning. I could feel it.

_It worked! He moved!_

"Edward?" His voice was _amazing!_ I'd thought him musical before. Curious, I wondered what he looked like, and if my vision would be clear, or blurry still, the way it had been while I'd burned. Cautiously, I opened my eyes, and heard him gasp. I was staring up at a wooden ceiling, and I marveled at the intricacy of the wood grains. The swirls and whorls and lines were fascinating. Strangely, I could still see myself. I looked in the direction from which the image of me seemed to come and met his eyes for the first time.

I gasped, inhaling in surprise. His eyes were a gorgeous gold, just like the halo of hair that surrounded his head. He radiated goodness, and I felt my lips curving into a smile. How had I ever thought him a Devil? Then I realized that _my_ eyes, which I could somehow see as though I were looking into a mirror, were a bright, vivid _red._ They had been a soft green, like Mom's. Shocked, I intended to stand, feeling far too vulnerable laying on my back in the corner on the floor. I could tell he wouldn't hurt me, but I still didn't like it. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I was on my feet, with my back against the wall as I stared at him and he at me.

"Don't be afraid," he said, softly, standing at the same time that I did. His voice was barely a whisper, but I could still hear him so clearly! And I could hear an odd rustling, as of a million voices whispering without words. And a faint clicking. I looked in the direction of the clicking, confused, and saw an ant crawling along the ground outside of a wide window. The whispering continued, and I identified it as the leaves brushing against each other in the wind.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

My eyes found his again, and I saw that he was watching me curiously. I tried to remember, but all I could recall was being trapped inside of a fire. No, wait, I remembered my eyes, and my mother's eyes. _Mom._ I pressed my lips together, remembering that she was dead, too.

"My name is Carlisle," he said, slowly holding a hand out, not as if to shake mine, but as a gesture of invitation for me to speak.

I swallowed, and was aware as I did so that the fire within me seemed to have left its mark upon my throat. I swallowed again, feeling the dry ache, like I was still sick from the disease that had killed my mother.

"I won't hurt you," he said in that same soft musical voice.

"I know," I whispered back to him.

* * *

**Author's note**

_Please_ read before continuing!

I need to warn you: Edward's history isn't pretty. This story revolves around him, Carlisle, and Esme. Esme's human past included some pretty terrible things, and I have done my best to write about them with all the gravity which they deserve. While not graphic, or described in detail, there will be domestic violence, spousal and child abuse discussed throughout the story.

This was originally supposed to be the beginning of Breaking Dawn. Don't worry, I'm still writing that book, too! But I was stuck, trying to figure out how to begin, what scene to use, where to start. I was hit with inspiration in the form of Isle Esme. Specifically, why would the Cullens buy an island?! So I wrote that chapter. I didn't think it made a strong enough beginning on its own, though, so I decided, since I was looking for a beginning, why not go back to the _beginning!?_ So I did.

But, of course, Edward had to have his say, and the story grew out of hand. It was just supposed to be a lead in! A chapter or two, three at most! A kind of preface for the main story, not one on its own. I had no intentions of writing his history, but when the muse speaks, I have to listen. By the time it was done, and I was ready to move on to Bella, I realized that I needed to make this story stand on its own. Which of course means I'm back to needing a beginning for Dawn, but whatever. It'll come to me.

So here you have it: my interpretation of Edward's early years. 1918, 21, 27, and 31. The Island, the Rebellion, and the Monster. If you haven't yet, please check out my other two stories. I have written New Moon and Eclipse from Edward's pov, as well. Eclipse is still being posted, but it's finished. I'm just editing it. And, now that this one is finished, I get to go back to writing Breaking Dawn! Bella has been getting impatient with me, heh.

The standard disclaimer. Alas, I am not Stephenie Meyer, but I am grateful to be allowed to play in the world which she has created.

I hope you enjoy!


	2. The Hunt

  **The Hunt**

The golden man stood in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for me to say or do something. I inhaled, in preparation to speak, but was stunned into silence. What was that _smell?!_ It was unlike anything I’d ever smelled before. I tried to compare it with what memories I had. Mom was the clearest, so I concentrated on her. She’d loved to cook. Dimly, I could remember Christmas morning, and how the house would fill with the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, of cream and honey, of smoke from the fireplace, and the sharp bite of the cold snow. This was all of those, and none. It was similar, but _more_ , and I realized it was coming from him.

“What are you?” I asked, for I was sure of one thing, at least: this man was not a man. He was no human, but neither was he the Devil; there was too much goodness in him for that.

“You don’t remember anything I told you before?” he replied, cautiously.

I thought back, not wanting to revisit the pain that had been the end of my life. I knew he’d spoken to me at length, but the meaning had been lost in the fire. Slowly, I shook my head.

“I told you not to be afraid, and that I wouldn’t hurt you. You remember that, yes?”

I nodded.

“Do you believe me?”

I nodded again.

 _Good,_ I heard him say, though he didn’t move his lips.

“I’m a vampire,” he whispered.

I sucked in a shocked breath and pressed myself against the wall. A _vampire?!_ How was that possible? Vampires weren’t real! And if they were, they couldn’t be good like the golden man was. But if he was so good, why would he lie? And why would he lie about _that?_

“It’s alright,” he hurried to reassure me. “I don’t kill people.”

“You killed me,” I refuted. My voice wouldn’t go any louder than the whisper I’d already spoken in.

“I didn’t!” He shook his head vehemently. His mouth was tight and his forehead creased. “You aren’t dead!”

I didn’t understand. My heart wasn’t beating and unless I reminded myself to do so, I wasn’t breathing. I _remembered_ dying. How could I not be dead? I looked around frantically, seeking an exit. He said I wasn’t dead, but although I had believed everything else he’d told me, I found it hard to believe that I was still alive. And if I did, and if I believed that he was a vampire, too, then I had to leave, and _fast_.

“Listen to me, Edward. I don’t drink human blood. Other vampires do, it’s true, but I never have.” He spoke firmly, his spoken words reinforced by the ones he was placing in my mind.

_I have never drunk human blood. Never! And I never will._

I was captivated by his words, by the sound and feel of them. Especially the one. It held the promise of paradise and I tasted something new. My mouth filled with a liquid that ran down my throat and seemed to enhance the ache there. It tasted strangely good, though, like honey mixed with a hot spice.

 _Trust me. Please,_ he begged me, and somehow, I did.

“I didn’t kill you, but I did _change_ you. I made you like me. You’re a vampire, Edward.”

“What?” I gasped in horror. “No!”

I shook my head, trying to deny it, but I saw the truth for myself. He showed me my face, my vivid red eyes, which were wide and glaring at him. He gazed at me, and I saw a look of sorrow cross his face.

_…don’t know if it was right, but I’ve been lonely for so long…_

“Your mother, she knew. I don’t know how, but she knew I was different. She begged me to save you. She said you were too good to be allowed to die. She was right, I could tell. I _can_ tell. You’re like me in more ways than one, Edward. I could see it then, even as sick as you were. I could see it in her. If I could have saved you both, I would have, but it was too late for her.”

My eyes stung, and I waited, expecting the tears that accompanied grief, but they didn’t come. I blinked in surprise. I took a breath, realizing as I did so that it had been a while since the last one, and again I smelled his wonderful rich sweetness. The air that flowed past my tongue was full of so many flavors, and I breathed deeply, pulling as many of them in as I could. The wood floor, walls and ceiling, the fabric from my torn clothes, which tasted different from his, the smell of his breath, the smell of _mine_ , and something alive, too. I glanced around, seeking the source of the living smell and saw a spider in a corner.

_Edward, please, forgive me…_

“For what?” I asked, confused.

His head tilted, and he looked confused, too. “It was too late for me to save her. She died before I could try. I couldn’t do it there, in the hospital. I brought you here, to my home. You were barely alive; I was almost too late as it was.”

“You… made me… a…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

“A vampire,” he confirmed, firmly. “Yes.”

I swallowed, feeling the dry burning again. My hand rubbed against my throat. The skin felt strange under my touch, and I looked down at myself, seeing the odd pale color, and the shimmer that seemed to catch and reflect back the light from the lamp that burned on the wall.

Panic overtook me, and I expected to feel my heart race, to feel adrenaline flood my system, but there was no physical response, and I blinked in surprise, again. I didn’t want to be a vampire! I didn’t want to be a demon! How would I ever get into Heaven now? I’d never see my mother again. _Mom!_ He said she’d asked him to do this to me! My head shook back and forth. No. He was lying. He _had_ to have been. And yet, as I stared into his eyes, I could detect no lie in them.

Not lying, then. _Mistaken_.

“She asked you to _save_ me, not damn me! You didn’t understand!” I yelled at him, my voice nearly loud enough to hurt my ears. “She must have wanted you to call a doctor! Or a priest!”

“I am a doctor,” he said, quickly. “I assure you, you aren’t damned. My father was a priest, and I was training to be one, as well.”

“How is that possible?” I growled. “You’re a v-v-vampire.” I forced myself to say the word.

“Yes,” he agreed, calmly. “I am a vampire. But I don’t take human lives; I save them. But like any doctor, I can’t save everyone. Humans die, despite my best efforts, but not because I killed them.”

“You killed _me,”_ I accused, again.

He shook his head and sighed. “You’re not dead!”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

I decided I didn’t believe him. He could place his words into my head, and I realized he could place images there, as well. It was how I could see myself. Who knew what other powers this creature possessed? Maybe he _was_ possessed. And maybe he was a vampire as he claimed. But _I_ wasn’t. I refused to believe it. I had to get away from him, from his evil influence and mind tricks.

Without warning, as soon as the thought crossed my mind, my body hurled itself at the window. I curled into a ball, crashing easily through the thin glass, and rolling on the ground briefly. I was on my feet in an instant and sprinting blindly away from him. His house was in the middle of a forest that I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t care. Anywhere was better than remaining with _him._

_Edward! No! Come back, please!_

I was running like the wind, not even seeing the trees as I hurled myself past them. I wasn't wearing any shoes, and my toes gripped the dirt, providing me with better traction than any footwear ever made. The muscles in my legs propelled me forward with such strength that I seemed almost to be flying. After the fire that had ended my life, it was strange not to feel any kind of burning in my muscles as I ran, to feel _strong_ after the debilitating illness. The feeling was glorious, and I thought I could have kept going until the end of time if necessary. I heard his pounding steps behind me and swerved, trying to lose him by changing direction.

 _…going the wrong way! He’s going to kill someone if he doesn’t…_ “Stop!” he bellowed. “Please!”

He placed his conviction into my mind. I was going to kill someone! I could hear him behind me, and my instincts were telling me to go, _go_ , **_go!_** There was a vampire chasing me! But I knew that I didn’t want to kill, and I was certain – because _he_ was certain – that if I kept going I would.

Fighting my instincts and my muscles, I slowed, but was unable to bring myself to a halt. A moment later, he barreled into me, tackling me to the ground. We rolled several times and then he was on top of me. My face was pressed into the dirt and his teeth were on my neck. I stiffened, digging my fingers into the ground, terror flooding me, while I waited for his killing bite. I was trembling, and I realized that I could feel him shaking, too. He held that pose for what could have been a second or an hour. My breaths were coming in gasping sobs, dirt was flying into my mouth, but I didn’t care. I was dead anyway. What was a little dirt in my mouth?

I felt him speaking against my skin. “I don’t want to kill you, Edward, but I could. Do you believe me? Speak quickly!”

“Yes!” I gasped.

“If I let you up, will you run again?”

“No.”

Slowly, he released me, and I rolled over, scuttling away from him on my hands, pushing myself away with my feet, but unable to stand. My back came up against a tree, and I stopped, staring wide-eyed at the vampire who’d just had his teeth pressed against my neck. He was squatting where he had held me to the ground, watching me with curiosity in his eyes. I spat out the taste of the dirt in my mouth, and wiped my hand across my lips, still breathing heavily. I felt like I should need to cough, but I didn’t. Once more, I blinked in confusion, expecting reactions for which my body no longer had a need.

“You stopped running away,” he said, surprised.

“I don’t want to be a killer,” I whispered.

 _Good!_  “Neither do I.”

We watched each other for a moment before I finally spoke again. “What now?”

“Now,” he said with a smile, “we hunt.”

“But you just said – ”

“Not people! Animals.”

“Animals?” I felt my lips curl in automatic distaste.

“Didn’t you eat meat?”

I nodded, and suddenly realized I was _ravenous._ The spicy honey flooded my mouth again and I groaned. “I _am_ hungry,” I allowed. “But first… could I…” I licked my lips and swallowed past the dryness in my throat. “I’d like some …water …something to drink. I’m _very_ thirsty.”

His lips twitched and I thought he was fighting back a laugh. I frowned at him. Surely it had been weeks since I’d had anything to eat or drink. I thought he said he was a doctor!

“Yes,” he said, softly, watching me rub my hand across my throat. “I know you are. And you are welcome to drink water if you wish, but it will not help you anymore.” _…only one thing will help him now…_

Realizing what he meant, what being a _vampire_ meant, I gasped the word at the same time that it flowed from his mind. “Blood. That’s what you mean, isn’t it,” I said in horror. I realized as I said it that even the _word_ tasted good.

“The deer dies to feed the wolf, and he feels no shame in killing. If you ate deer as a human, is it any different now to drink the deer’s blood?”

“I never hunted.” I thought hard for a moment, trying to remember where the meat I knew I’d eaten had come from. “Mom always bought our meat from the butcher’s,” I declared, relieved to have retrieved the memory.

“That’s alright. You’ll find it quite simple, instinctual.”

I thought about his words for a moment, considered all that had happened in the short time since I’d first met his eyes. He placed in my mind an image of himself stalking a deer, jumping through the air to land on its back, sinking his teeth into the deer’s throat, and I could almost _taste_ the blood, the image was so vivid. He’d given me no reason to mistrust him so far, and I felt again that he was _good,_ through and through.

Slowly, I nodded, feeling the burn in my throat intensifying, and knowing that there was only one way to quench _this_ fire. He smiled and stood, closing the distance between us in a few paces before holding his hand out to me. I knew that I didn’t need it to stand, and I also knew that _he_ knew the same thing. The gesture was one of friendship. I reached up and clasped his hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

“First, we need to leave this area, we’re far too close to the city here. Follow me, and while we run, I want you to not breathe. At least until your thirst is under control, we need to be extremely careful that you don’t scent anything other than animals, or your instincts could overtake your reason, and you could kill a person.”

I instantly stopped the movement of air through my nose, though I regretted not being able to smell him; he still smelled wonderful to me, but it caused me no discomfort. This fact had me doubting the truth in his claim that I wasn’t dead. I didn’t think he was lying to me, but if he believed something that wasn’t true, then it wasn’t really a lie.

“Let’s see how fast you are,” he smiled at me and turned to run back toward his house. I kept pace with him easily, though he kept increasing his speed until we were hurtling through the trees. Again I was filled with a pleasure I’d never really experienced before. Running was glorious! I saw him glance at me and I grinned broadly at him. We both burst out laughing in delight at the same time, though I only allowed myself to do so as long as I had air in my lungs.

 _A friend! A companion!_ His thought entered my head and I smiled at him again, aware that he was practically jubilant.

 _Here!_ I heard his thought again, and stopped the same instant he did. “Alright, Edward. What do you hear?” My body was excited from the run, and my thirst returned with nearly overwhelming strength. The spicy honey flowed again, and I felt my entire body shaking from the strength of the need to drink.

“You want me to _listen_ for a deer?” I asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“I want you to use all of your senses when you hunt, but most especially your brain. If you want to refrain from killing people, you will need to be very careful. Later, you will find your sense of smell to be most useful when hunting, but right now, you have to be on your guard. So, first, close your eyes, stop breathing, _listen_ , and tell me what you hear.”

I followed his instructions, closing my eyes, though for some reason he still placed the image of our surroundings in my mind. I almost asked him why I should bother closing my eyes if he was going to show me things anyway, but held my tongue. The sounds of the forest were compelling, and difficult to separate. Once again, I heard the sound of a million voices whispering without words, only this time it was clearer, closer, surrounding me. That made sense; if I was standing in the forest, I _should_ hear the movement of the leaves, even if I had still been human.

Something slippery was to my left. It sounded cold and wet, and I decided it was flowing water, but small - a stream, not a river. There were birds in the trees, and I could detect their tiny, rapid heartbeats, but they didn’t appeal to me in any way. Likewise I could hear other heartbeats, and the rapid flow of air through the lungs of a small creature. Squirrels, maybe, or some other kind of rodent. Turning my head from side to side, I caught a gnawing sound, wet and crunchy at the same time. Something was eating. _Many_ somethings, I realized, and decided they were bugs – termites, perhaps.

“I can hear the wind in the trees,” I finally said. “There is a stream to my left. I hear the heart beats of birds and squirrels, and a tree over there,” I gestured to my right,” is infested with termites.”

He laughed, and I could hear his approval in the sound. His laughter brought a grin of happiness to my face. I’d never heard such a carefree sound before and was unable to stop myself from laughing along with him. I opened my eyes and looked into his again, seeing their beautiful golden color. My laughter faded when he showed me my own vivid red eyes. They disturbed me, and I wasn’t sure what his purpose was in placing that image in my mind.

“Good!” he said when he finished laughing. “Hear anything you’d be interested in drinking?”

“Not really,” I admitted. The stream didn’t sound appealing, despite my thirst and its obvious cool wetness. I realized I wanted something hot to drink, like the teas Mom used to make on cold nights, or when my throat ached the way it did at that moment.

He nodded. “I didn’t expect you to. Now, take a deep breath, and tell me what you smell.”

Once more, I did as he instructed, glad for the chance to smell him again. His rich cinnamon and nutmeg scent filled the air around us, but I could easily detect the living forest around me, too. The leaves were rotting beneath my bare feet, there were scent trails from the squirrels I’d heard earlier,  the stream was a faint scent to my left, mostly that of damp rocks and mud, but the water was definitely _flowing_ , and there was something else that I found hard to identify. It smelled like the squirrels, only there was a strength to it that the squirrels lacked.

With a glance at my companion, I took a few steps in the direction of the scent, and found where a bush had been nibbled on. I looked at the ground around the bush and saw marks in the earth that I recognized as some kind of animal print. The deer we were hunting, I guessed. I had to keep swallowing or the spicy honey that filled my mouth would have run down my chin. I’d never been so thirsty in all my life. I was tempted to sprint to the stream, but I could tell just from the smell that he’d been right when he’d said the water would not help me.

“There was a deer here,” I declared, not interested in describing the other scents at that moment.

“Yes,” he agreed. “More than one, I think. Can you tell in which direction they went?”

I walked back and forth a couple of times, sniffing the air and noting the subtle difference in strength as I did.

“That way,” I pointed with certainty and began to walk in the direction I’d pointed without waiting on him.

He kept pace with me, nodding his agreement. My speed increased, the need to drink getting the better of me. He didn’t try to stop me, and soon I was running, though not as fast as we had been before. The deer’s scent was growing stronger, and I heard him placing his thoughts in my head again, though they didn’t seem to make sense.

_…wonder if he’ll hear them, or simply sniff them out?_

He didn’t seem to be talking _to_ me, and I wondered why he would place those words in my head. I took his cue, though, and listened over the pounding of my feet. As soon as I did, my ears caught a heavy rhythmic thumping that brought me to a halt in astonishment. There was something alive not far away, I could hear its heart beating, and the snuffling snorts as it nosed around another bush. I heard an odd rustling and thought it was the sound of fur rubbing against fur. It was the heart beat, though, that I focused on. Aside from his musical laughter, I thought I had never heard another sound as wonderful as that low, steady thumping.

Without realizing that I had moved, I found the source of the sound and scent in my arms. The deer kicked out in fear and surprise, but I held it tight, supporting the weight of it easily. I ran my nose along its fur, but though the sound of the heart drew me, and I had followed its scent trail eagerly, the scent of the deer up close was unappealing. Still, it wasn’t the fur I wanted to taste, nor the meat – it was the creature’s blood I wanted, and I unerringly found where its pulse beat in its neck. The feeling of its fur against my lips was odd, but not unpleasant.

However, all of those considerations fled my mind the instant my teeth broke its skin and I had my first taste of blood as a vampire. It was exactly the right temperature, not warm, but _hot_ , salty and slightly metallic. I could taste the deer’s blood mixing with the spicy honey in my mouth and thought the combination was the perfect accent to the flavor of the blood. I allowed as much of it to pool in my mouth as I could before swallowing. The blood coated my throat, cooling the fire at last, and I heard myself _growling_. The sound was wild and feral, not exactly a purr, though I was surprised to find that there was a definite feline quality to it that I could detect. Not satisfied to simply let the blood flow into my mouth, I pulled hard, draining the animal completely dry.

I dropped it, and without thinking about it, sprang after its companions. When I dropped the fourth one, I stayed where I was, stunned with the realization of what I’d just done. I could feel the deer’s blood coursing through me. The sensation was amazing. I found myself licking my lips again, my tongue seeking out any drops I may have missed.

_Feel better?_

Turning to face him, I realized that he’d kept his distance while I’d killed. He smiled ruefully at me, and placed an image in my mind of two vampires fighting over a human. I frowned, crouching slightly, and wondered if he was about to fight me for the deer that still remained. They had fled, but I would have been able to catch them easily if I had wanted to.

“Still thirsty?” he asked with a smile. “There are plenty more.”

“No,” I denied. Though my throat felt much better, I could tell that there was still a smoldering ache, but my stomach was very full. Straightening from my crouch, I offered, “You can have the others if you want.”

“Another time. Thank you, though.”

Closing my eyes, I savored the memory of the deer’s taste. Reeling from the pleasure of drinking the deer’s blood, I couldn’t move, simply stood in place and felt the tingling warmth as it spread through my body. He placed an image in my mind of myself, standing motionless with a smile on my lips, my mouth just slightly opened, as my chest heaved from my rapid breaths.

I opened my eyes in astonishment, and saw him smiling at me, a knowing look in his eyes. Looking away from him, I expected to feel warmth on my cheeks, but my body didn’t react to my embarrassment. He seemed to sense it, though, and didn’t press me.

“You are seventeen, isn’t that right?”

“It is,” I muttered. “How old are _you?”_

I expected him to say something like twenty-five, or so, and was shocked when his response was, “Two hundred seventy-eight.”

I heard a scraping sound and turned in surprise to see him digging a hole in the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Even though they are just deer, you should always hide your kills,” he explained calmly.

“Why?”

“The number one rule a vampire must learn is to remain hidden. The humans cannot be allowed to know about us.”

“Why?” I repeated.

“First, because it is the law. Exposure means death.” He met my eyes calmly, but the image he placed in my mind was violent. He showed me vampires being ripped apart, torn limb from limb, and set on fire. I shuddered in horror.

“Second,” he continued, “because by remaining hidden, we can live among them. If they knew what we were, they would move against us. Surely you’ve been following the war in Europe?”

“I was to have joined it, in a few months,” I admitted.

“Imagine if the entire world stood up against vampires. We would go from being the hunters to the _hunted.”_

I nodded, in understanding. I had never believed vampires existed – until I became one. However, if I had known that there were bloodsucking demons who could prey on my family, I doubted I would have hesitated to join in the fight against them. I watched as he retrieved the deer I had killed and dumped their bodies into the hole he’d dug, and I finally moved to help him to cover their corpses with dirt.

“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know… sell them to the butcher, or something? Isn’t this rather wasteful?”

“Do you want to take the chance that your venom could contaminate the meat and turn an unsuspecting human?”

My eyes widened in shock. “Is that possible?”

He shrugged. “My bite turned you; you bit the deer. I don’t know, honestly. It’s never been tested, but I’d rather not find out the hard way. No, your intentions are well-meaning, but impractical. Besides, how would you explain to the butcher how you killed the deer? Our bites are rather recognizable as such, and then, too, you just killed _four_ of them. I have little doubt that you’ll be hunting again tomorrow at the latest. We’ll need to keep moving for a while to spread your kills out in order to avoid depleting the area.

“Don’t let it bother you. God’s creations are well designed, and nature has a way of making good use of everything. These deer will feed something, even if just the worms.”

Turning away from him to study the subtle brightening of the horizon, I smiled, enjoying the sense of having found a friend. The sky shifted from a velvet black that was sprinkled with stars, to a dark blue streaked with purple, and then pink. As I watched, the stars winked out, one by one. I had stood motionless, observing the sun about to rise over the horizon for several long minutes, captivated by the colors as though I had never seen them before, when I realized that he was making no move to leave. We were vampires, and we were about to be exposed to the sun.

I grabbed his arm, knowing that my face held a look of terror. “Carlisle,” I hissed. “The sun!”

He laughed, softly. “It can’t hurt you. There aren’t many things that can – other than another vampire.” He smiled at me, and somehow I thought that he was pleased that I had said his name.

“You said you’re nearly three hundred years old?”

He nodded.

“How long will you …live?”

“Vampires live until they are killed. I know several that have lived for over three thousand years.”

My jaw dropped. I was seventeen. Three hundred years was difficult to imagine. Three _thousand_ was nearly incomprehensible.

Then, remembering his words, I questioned him again. “Venom? I have _venom?_ Like a snake?”

An image came to me, blurry and almost colorless, and I recognized it as one from my life. I could recall being taught of the story of Adam and Eve, and of the evil tongue of the serpent. I was a vampire, an apparently _venomous_ vampire, and I felt a chill overtake me. I didn’t want to be evil. Eyeing him, I found it hard to believe he was evil, but if he were a vampire, didn’t that make him – and me – automatically damned? Soulless? With far more clarity than the human memory, I suddenly remembered feeling my soul being ripped from my body while I lay on the floor, burning.

 _The look on his face!_ He showed me my expression of horror as I stared at him.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, quietly. “Snakes are beneficial creatures, too. God’s creations all serve their purposes, be they deer or wolf, snake or squirrel, human or vampire.”

I considered his words while I tried to reconcile myself with my new reality. That I was a vampire was painfully obvious. That I was no longer living was, too. How could _this_ be part of God’s plan for me? Shaking my head, I tried to merge who I remembered being with what I had become. I remembered my mother and felt the corners of my mouth turn down. I concentrated on remembering her, feeling as though the memories of my life were slipping away from me.

“You’re unhappy,” he observed. His clear, musical voice was sad.

I shrugged, unsure of how to articulate what I was feeling without offending him. The sun rose over the horizon at that moment, and – despite his assurances – I felt myself flinch as the rays touched my skin. My eyes closed as I expected to feel pain again, but all I felt was a subtle and gentle warmth against my skin. I peeked one eye open and stared at my creator. The lamp in his house had reflected off of my skin, but the _sun!_ The rays broke against him, turning him into a shimmering golden angel.

He watched me, and showed me my own skin shining in much the same way.

_…wish he would tell me what he was thinking…_

“It’s just… my parents are dead. Even if they weren’t,” I glanced down at my arms, despite seeing myself in the image he placed in my mind, “I don’t think they could have ever seen me again. No one that I knew can. My home, the place where I lived, the things I made with my mother, I can never see any of that again. I’m finding it hard to even _remember_ my life, and I’m just wondering… who I am, now.”

"You're still Edward Anthony Masen," he said firmly. "You are who you were before, you just are also a vampire, now."

"But my life is over. I may as well have died in the hospital."

He pressed his lips together, a frown creasing his forehead. _What does he think would have happened if he had survived his illness?_

Turning away from him to study the rising sun, finding myself captivated by the colors once again, I was all too aware of the loss of my humanity. "I was only a few months away from graduating," I explained. "I could have… finished school. Met a girl," I felt my lips twist. "Had a life." I shrugged.

_But he said he was to join the war…_

I nodded, struggling to retrieve my memories. "Mom hated the idea. Dad approved."

"What idea?" There was more than curiosity in his tone; he was confused by my words. He seemed to think I wasn't making any sense.  _...why wouldn't she want him to finish school?_

"Dad said that protecting our country was the right thing to do. I was a man, he'd said. It was time for me to act like it. Time to put away childish things." My lips twisted again, remembering his opinion of my love of music. "He told me that college could wait until I came back."

_So many of our young men are dying over there even now… Did he think it was likely that his son would have even come home?_

"Well, he had been a soldier. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps."

_Being a soldier would have meant killing…_

"Yes," I agreed, sourly. "I know."

… _and he said he didn't want to be a killer._

I shrugged. "I _don't_ want to kill, but being part of an army seemed different somehow than just…"

_Murdering a human for food?_

The thought made the spicy honey in my mouth flow, but I shuddered away from the idea. "Yes," I agreed, again.

"I'm... not following you," he said, hesitantly.

"What do you mean?"

He gave a short laugh. "That's what I'm asking you."

I frowned, struggling to remember the arguments that I'd heard my parents having over the last weeks of our lives. "There was no war when Dad had been a soldier. For him it had been about serving his country and learning new things, leaving his parents to become his own man. Mom said, 'Murder doesn't make a man'. It was God she had wanted me to serve, not my country. She said that I wouldn't be the same when I got back. He said, 'That was the point'."

_His mother was correct. Killing is killing, for whatever reason. I'm sure it would have left its mark upon him._

"I'm sure you're right," I muttered, seeing all too clearly what I had tried to ignore in my plans to gain my father's approval. With the very real possibility of becoming a killer in front of me now, I understood why Mom had prayed every night for the war to be over before I could join it.

He was silent for a moment before I heard him speak, his words hesitant once again.  _Do you hear me?_

Surprised by this question, I listened to the sounds of the forest again. The wind in the trees, a faint thumping heart beat - the deer hadn't gone very far, and I tasted a trickle of honey again - a scratching from some creature digging under the ground along with the rapid beating of its tiny heart, the rustling of bugs in the leaf litter, and the light flow of air that I could hear and smell coming from him.

Smiling in delight at my enhanced senses, I closed my eyes and said, "I hear everything."

I caught an odd thrill of excitement from him that I couldn't identify. _Your mother was right to ask me to save you, Edward,_ he said, firmly.

I was surprised at the force behind those words. "Why do you say that?"

Again, he projected a thrill of excitement before he spoke. _Because if you had survived your illness, and gone to fight in that war, it would have killed you, even had you physically survived the war to return to her._

"But she died, too. And so did Dad. So there would have been no one to return home _to."_

_You would still have had to live with the consequences._

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."

_It matters to me._

“Why? They’re dead. _I’m_ dead. So what if in another life I would have been a killer? You turned me into a vampire. I’m _made_ to be a killer, now. It’s my fate.”

“No!” He grabbed my arms, pulling me around to face him, his furious face inches from mine. “You listen to me Edward Masen. You. Are. _Not_. Dead! You are a vampire, yes, but you did not die!”

I pressed my lips together, but didn’t answer him. Of course I was dead. I remembered dying. How was it that he believed otherwise? Surely he remembered his death, too? He studied my eyes, and I knew that he saw the doubt in them. He sighed at my stubbornness, and the fury left his face.  

When he spoke again, his voice was stern, determined to convince me. “Now, in my nearly three hundred years, I have never taken a human’s life. You don’t have to be a killer, any more than I do. I’m not telling you that it will be easy, but if you believe that being a killer is your fate, then there is no way you will be able to stop yourself from making that belief a reality. Do you _want_ to kill people?”

“No,” I whispered, my eyes wide.

“Then you need to stop this pattern of thought right now.”

I nodded. “You’re right.” I took a deep breath as he let go of me and took a step back. I closed my eyes, and decided firmly that I would do as he said. He had never killed, so I knew that it was possible. I opened my eyes and looked back into his once more.

“I will not be a killer,” I vowed, firmly. But I remembered how the deer had ended up in my arms before I’d even realized it, and worried that I wouldn’t be able to prevent it, despite my conviction. “Will you help me?”

He nodded, a smile playing about his lips. “Every step of the way. Whatever you need, just ask.”

I smiled back at him, grateful that, of all the creatures that could have become his companion, he had chosen me. The approval I had always longed for from my father was shining in his golden eyes, and I hoped that I would never give him cause to lose it. Seeing myself through his eyes was strange, but I was very happy that he was willing to share such an image with me. Except for one thing.

“Well, first, I think I need a bath. I’m rather filthy.”


	3. The Woman

  **The Woman**

“Look at her, Edward. Isn’t she the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen?”

Walking over to stand by my father, I glanced out of the window to where his attention had been fixed for the past hour. I sighed at exactly the same time as he did, but where his was a sigh of adoration, mine was one of resignation. Unwillingly, I studied the object of his attention.

The woman was planting flowers in the ground, kneeling in the garden with a trowel in one hand, as she patted the dirt around her latest addition. Her apron was covered in dirt, but her sundress was clean. Her face was hidden under a broad brimmed hat, but I could see her caramel colored hair spilling over her shoulders, as well as the images in her mind of the garden in bloom. The sun was out, and I could see the unnatural rainbows on the ground and the plants around her from where the sun’s rays broke against her skin.

I shrugged, uninterested and uncomfortable. “Sure, I guess.” I looked up at the sky, hoping for any hint that we could leave soon, but there wasn’t a cloud in sight. I sighed again, trying to tune out the amorous thoughts he was having. I looked back at her, wondering - for what felt like the millionth time - what her creation was going to mean to me. She’d finished digging another hole and stood to pick up the tree she was planting next. Easily lifting it with one hand, she dropped it into its new home and I felt the subtle vibration when it hit the ground.

“Oh, drat!” she muttered when she saw that yet another tool was mangled in her hands. I put my hand over my mouth, but couldn’t stop the snicker from coming out. She was already surrounded by three broken shovels, a couple of twisted rakes, and had just squished her fifth trowel into a shapeless wad of metal.

“Be nice,” he scolded me.

“Come on, Carlisle,” I laughed. “At the rate she’s going, she’ll keep the local hardware store in business for the next century.”

“She’s only two months old,” he said, shooting me a stern look.

I tried to school my expression into one of interest, rather than amusement.

“I don’t recall you being all that coordinated when you were that age.”

I shrugged, my mouth twisting into a crooked grin.

“At least _she’s_ never ripped the front door off!” he defended her.

“That’s because you open it for her every time she steps through,” I pointed out.

His shoulders twitched, defensively. “It’s only polite.”

“Mm-hmm. And it has nothing to do with the reason you’ve been standing here with your mouth hanging open, watching her for the past hour?”

He averted his face, and I thought if he was a human he’d have been blushing.

“Go _talk_ to her, Carlisle.” I rolled my eyes. Really, the man was three centuries old! I’d have thought him long past the types of school-age nerves I’d seen in my classmates when I’d been alive.

He didn’t move, just continued to watch as she began to scoop out a new hole. She was using her hands this time and I bit back another laugh.

 _Is she… is she very angry with me?_ The sound of his thoughts held a tremble of fear, and I thought I could detect a combination of shame and anger in him. Hearing thoughts had been easy – far, _far_ too easy – from the start. It was keeping those thoughts out that was the real problem. However, deciphering the other workings of the minds I could peer into was taking a little more practice.

“Angry with you?” I repeated. “Why would she be?”

He gestured toward her. _For doing this to her._

“She was already dying, Carlisle,” I hedged. _“You_ didn’t kill her.”

“She’s not dead!” he said, sharply, glaring at me. “And neither are you!”

I shrugged again, not wanting to debate with him at that moment. “Either way, you were just trying to help her.”

_Yes, but…_

“Ugh, she’s not angry with _you,_ alright?”

“You say that like she is angry with someone, though.” He raised an eyebrow, trying to understand my tone.

I grimaced and turned away.

“Edward, please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to invade her privacy, but… will you tell me what’s bothering her?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the windowsill with a sigh. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“You? Why wouldn’t she?”

“I’m in the way,” I muttered, finally voicing part of what had been bothering both of us.

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head, his forehead creased into a deep frown, his amber eyes wide with worry.

“You said you don’t want to invade her privacy, and I respect that, but _I_ can’t help it. My very presence is an invasion of her privacy, and yours.”

“Your gift isn’t your fault.”

“My _gift_ , as you call it, means that I hear and see things that she doesn’t want me to.”

“Such as?”

“Ugh!” I repeated, throwing my hands into the air. “Go _talk_ to her!”

He bit his lip, nervously, and shook his head. _Tell me why you think you’re in the way? You’ve done nothing but help her. I thought she seemed to like you…_ His mind flared with a strange warmth I hadn’t seen in him before, and it took me a moment to recognize that it was jealousy.

I burst out laughing, not bothering to cover my mouth, this time.

He crossed his arms, glaring at me. “What?” he asked, tensely.

“Carlisle,” I rolled my eyes. “I could be her _little_ _brother_ , even counting my real age. Trust me, she’s not interested in me any more than I am in her.”

“She thinks of you as a little brother?” he asked, incredulous.

“Close enough.”

“Then why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

I took a deep breath and held it, trying to think of how to say what needed to be said without hurting him. “Do you remember when you were telling me about the vampires you’d met in Europe?”

He nodded. _Of course._

“Most of the covens are two, _not_ three.” I hesitated before repeating, “I’m in the way. She can’t… with me here… and you…” I trailed off, embarrassed. “Ugh!” I exclaimed again, flinging my arms out in disgust. I pushed away from the windowsill and stormed off.

It was ridiculous! I was seventeen! How was _I_ supposed to be giving relationship advice to _my father_ when I’d never been in one myself? I heard him considering my words while I paced in my room, wishing I could go hunting.

The woman’s thirst was growing, and so was my own, which didn’t help my mood at all. I was frustrated with Carlisle for bringing her here. We’d been perfectly happy, just the two of us, for the past three years. I’d gotten my newborn thirst under control without killing a single human – something I was quite proud of, and something that _she_ hadn’t accomplished. Now she was out there planting _flowers_ of all things. In the sunlight! I rolled my eyes and growled. It didn’t matter that the sun couldn’t hurt us; she could still be seen. I ignored the fact that I’d hear anyone’s mind long before they got close enough to see her. It was still reckless.

Carlisle’s thoughts toward the woman were driving me crazy. What was worse was having to watch _him_ through _her_ eyes. It was bad enough seeing her through his! I didn’t dare leave, though. What if another human came? The one time I’d left to hunt alone, trying to give them the privacy to finally _talk_ to each other, had been a disaster. I’d come home, happily full of the blood of a family of black bears I’d been lucky enough to catch, only to find her weeping in the living room. Carlisle had been frantically trying to decide how to dispose of the body of the human she’d killed, unsure of how to comfort the woman he’d just turned into a murderer. Our home at the time had been too close to the city for a newborn vampire, but we’d thought that we could keep her safe.

We’d been wrong.

Of course, we hadn’t factored in having a newborn when we’d chosen the house, nor the fact that Carlisle would try to take her on a walk, trying – _finally!_ – to get to know her. Distracted by his attempts to draw her out, he hadn’t paid as close attention as he should have to the sounds and scents around them. The human had come too close, and she’d caught his scent. He’d been dead before Carlisle had caught up to her.

That had led to our move _here._ I hated it here; it was far too bright, but Carlisle had wanted us to move quickly, and as far as possible from the place where she’d killed. Moving here had been difficult; I’d had to keep my mind open for humans the whole way, and we’d come too close on more than one occasion. All it had taken was one moment of carelessness on my part, and she’d been off, running toward a scent that she couldn’t resist. It was a good thing I was so fast, but tackling the newborn woman – especially with her past – had been unpleasant for both of us. Of course, it had been worse the times when I hadn’t managed to catch her. Still growling, I kicked out, forgetting for the moment about my excessive strength.

“Damn it,” I muttered, seeing the hole I’d just made in the wall.

Carlisle was at my door, instantly. “Edward?”

“Come in,” I invited, sourly. He opened the door, warily, seeing me shaking the dust off of my foot.

He sighed, walking over to sit on my couch. “This isn’t working, is it?”

“What gave you that impression?” I muttered.

“We’ll just have to move.”

“Again?” I gaped at him. “What good would _that_ do?” Though I hated it here, it hadn’t even been a month, and I was shocked that he was considering it so soon. He was always so steadfast, so sure. Until _she_ had come into his life, at any rate. Getting here had been hard enough; now he wanted to go through it all again already?

“I was thinking, we could go somewhere more remote, someplace where you wouldn’t feel the need to be on guard all the time. I know it’s wearing on you; I can see it in your eyes.”

I glanced up, meeting his, and seeing in his mind the near black color of my own.

“We’ll all go out hunting tonight, and leave tomorrow, or the day after,” he decided.

“To go where?” I tasted my venom flowing the second he mentioned hunting. My jaw dropped, seeing the plan in his mind before he spoke his next word.

“South,” he said, firmly.

“Are you insane? You want to take a newborn _south?_ _Toward_ the southern wars? No. Absolutely not.” I was shaking my head in horror, able to picture far too vividly the armies that he had described to me. We were too close as it was!

“Not toward,” he corrected me. “Past. We’ll go around them; we’ll avoid any areas of human habitation – that’s where the armies should be, anyway – and that will keep Esme away from temptation. There are huge rainforests in South America. I know how much you love lions. Well, there are leopards and jaguars there, and I think you’ll find the herd animals distinctly different from the deer we have here.”

Seeing the images of the jungle cats in his mind, I felt my lips spreading into a smile of anticipation. I deliberately ignored his casual use of _her_ name.

I was glad Carlisle had started me out on deer. Although I had thought their taste was delicious at the time, the flavor of deer couldn’t compare to that of the animals that preyed upon them. If he’d started me out on the stronger creatures, I might never have been willing to drink the more timid herd animals. I found it amazing that she was even willing to drink deer at all after her first taste of human blood. Just the memory of the taste that I could catch from her mind was more powerful than any lion I’d ever caught. Still, it was far better than becoming a killer.

“That sounds good,” I allowed. “Where did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking somewhere outside of Rio de Janeiro.”

I frowned. “Isn’t Rio just as sunny? And rather heavily populated? And didn’t you tell me there’s a coven there, already?”

He laughed. “Rafael is a friend, and I think you’ll like him, despite his… appetites.” Carlisle grimaced over the last word. I had little doubt that he’d tried to sell the Rio vampire on our way of life, but being a vampire and _not_ drinking human blood wasn’t the easiest lifestyle - as the woman had proven. “His isn’t the only coven in the area, either. There is a coven of Amazon women you might enjoy meeting.”

As if I had any chance of convincing any vampire to follow our way of life, when he had failed to do so for centuries! I rolled my eyes, seeing through his motives. Despite being a pastor’s son – or perhaps _because_ of it – he’d already had a girlfriend by the time he was my age. Although his teasing was good natured, his amusement over my lack of experience was irritating. And he still had the audacity to ask _me_ for advice! I crossed my arms and growled at him.

He laughed and held his hands up. “Ok, maybe not, but the fact remains, the jungles would be a nice change, and we wouldn’t have to live near any humans.”

“So you want to, what? Live in seclusion for the next year? In the middle of a jungle? We could just go build ourselves a house in the canopy I suppose? Or, if there were no humans to bother keeping up pretenses for, live like bloodsucking monkeys in the trees?”

“Nice.” He pressed his lips together, not approving of my sarcasm.

“Well, what was your plan, then?”

“I was thinking of something more private than just living in the jungle. There are many tribes there, after all, and I don’t want Esme to kill any of them any more than I do the humans here.” His mouth twisted down, and I knew that he blamed himself for the humans’ deaths, as well as for the guilt that _she_ felt over the matter.

I sighed, feeling bad for adding to his distress. “They were accidents, Carlisle. You know she wants to live like us.”

“Does she? She doesn’t… resent my restrictions?” His eyes were worried now, and I detected within him an odd combination of feelings toward her. The murders she’d committed – and the fact that there had been more than one – had him concerned that she would choose to leave us. He was her father as much as he was mine, but that wasn’t what he _wanted_ to be, where she was concerned. I tried to rein in my resentment of her inclusion into our coven, reminding myself that he hadn’t exactly had time to ask me, even if he would have listened. And if he had asked, what could I have said? _Let_ her die?

“Yes,” I said, firmly. “And no, she doesn’t resent _you.”_

“There you go with that, again! What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “What did you mean more private than the jungle?”

“It’s not nothing,” he persisted. “Are you telling me she resents you?”

I crossed my arms, refusing to answer him.

“Why?” _Your lack of an answer is as much of an answer as I need. I can’t allow there to be strife between any members of this coven. You need to tell me what’s going on between you two._

 “It was easier for me. I could hear their minds long before I could smell them. She’s struggling, and can’t bear the thought more failures.”

“That’s neither her fault nor yours.”

I shrugged and looked away.

“There’s more to it than that,” he deduced. “Tell me.”

 Unwillingly, I spoke. “It’s like I said before, like you told me; there’s a reason that most covens are two. Three’s a crowd.”

 _Why should she care? You were already here,_ he thought, not seeing my point.

“Exactly!” I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant to say that.

His eyes finally showed his understanding, seeing through me as he always had. _“You_ resent her!”

I couldn’t deny it.

“Edward,” he shook his head, stood from my couch, and walked over to grasp my shoulder. “I chose you. For nearly three hundred years I was without any true companion. You’re more than just a member of my coven, more even than my best friend. You’re my son. At least, that’s how I think of you. But surely you know that.”

I smiled, pleased. Though I’d come to think of him as my father, we’d never really discussed the matter before. “I’m honored to be your son. Really. But _she_ isn’t my sister, regardless of how she thinks of me.”

“Her name is Esme,” he said sternly.

“I know what her name is,” I muttered. “I hear it in your thoughts all the time.”

“Do you know why most covens are small? It has nothing to do with a third getting in the way of the other two. It’s about territoriality. Occasionally, there will be a true mated pair bonding, and those rarely include a third, it’s true. But that’s because of the nature of vampires, and their possessiveness. Which… I’m thinking is _your_ problem, here. Isn’t it?”

I scowled and looked away, again.

“Do you know how long I’ve known her?”

I shook my head. I’d seen her younger face in his mind many times over the past three years, but I’d never met the girl he’d thought of, and had had no idea that she was still alive, until the day when he’d brought her to our home, nearly dead.

“Ten years. I… always hoped that she was happy, but… I know that she didn’t _fall_ from that cliff.” He raised his eyebrow at me and I shook my head slowly, not wanting to tell him about what I’d seen in her mind.

“When they brought her into the morgue, I couldn’t just let her die. Not when – ” He broke off, startled by what he’d been about to say.

I said it for him. “Not when you loved her.”

He nodded once, slowly. “Perhaps not yet, but I knew that I _could.”_

“Which is why I’m in the way,” I explained. “No couple wants a girl’s little brother hanging about. Especially when he can read their minds.” My mouth twisted.

“Well, what if you weren’t her little brother, then?” His thoughts were suddenly whirling too fast for me to follow.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my son; what if you were hers, too?”

“I _had_ a mother,” I snarled.

“You had a father, too,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but… Carlisle, I’m helping you _raise_ her. You’re asking me to go from being a co-parent of sorts, to her brother, to her _son?_ No.”

He leaned against my wall, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’ll admit the family dynamic isn’t usual, but I think that’s what I’m getting at here. We could be a family. I need you to know that you still belong, to feel like you still belong. I don’t want you to feel that I’ve replaced you with another vampire, or that you need to compete with her for a place in the coven.”

I scowled, knowing that the feeling of being replaced was exactly my problem.

“Edward, I’m concerned that if you two can’t find a place in each other’s lives, one of you will feel the need to leave. And I don’t want either one of you to go.”

I stared into his ancient eyes, saw in them the hurt he felt at the thought of losing either of us. “I don’t want to go,” I admitted after a long moment.

“Then will you consider it? If I tell her how I feel, and if she were willing, would you be, not just my son, but hers, too?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned to stare out of the small window, seeing the woman – _Esme_ – cleaning up the tools she’d broken. All of her plants were in the ground, and she would soon be looking for Carlisle. I had no doubt that she was willing to be his mate. She’d remembered their meeting and had found him as fascinating as he had found her. To live with a mated pair as a third, unwelcome creature who could not just hear every word spoken between them, but also every thought, had been an unpleasant prospect. To be a _family_ , on the other hand, was an interesting idea.

I’d seen her grieving over her lost child, though, and wasn’t sure she would want that infant replaced with a seventeen year old. However, I knew that she did long to be a mother, and as a vampire there really was no way for it to happen other than to adopt someone who was old enough not to be an illegal creation, yet young enough to still need or even want a mother.

I still missed my mother. Elizabeth’s face was one of the few memories of my human life that was truly clear. Edward Masen, Sr. had been nothing like Carlisle, and I had never felt disloyal to him in considering Carlisle as my father in this new… life. If I had a new father, why not a new mother, too? Mom was dead, and had _asked_ Carlisle to do this to me, after all.

“What did you mean by someplace more private than the jungle?” I eventually asked.

“There are many islands off the coasts. We could easily find an uninhabited one, stock it with prey, or make forays into the nearby jungles, and live there for a time until she can trust herself around humans again. We wouldn’t be restricted by the sun, and you would be free to explore Rio without worrying all the time.”

Depending on how I looked at it, I was seventeen, or twenty, or three. While I still craved the security of the protection and guidance that Carlisle provided, I was old enough to also crave independence, and the image of myself exploring the exotic city on my own was exciting. I smiled, liking the idea. “An island, huh? What, just sail over to one and claim it in the name of the Cullens?”

He shrugged. “Land just about anywhere can be bought for the right price.”

“You want to _buy_ an _island?”_ I gaped at him. “Seriously?”

“Why not? Real estate is a good investment, and besides, it would give us a place where we could go any time we needed an escape from the clouds and the humans. Wouldn’t you like to be able to enjoy the sun again?”

Thinking of the way she’d seemed to crave the sun, I laughed softly. “I know _she_ would.”

He nodded fervently, his eyes shining, and his mouth curving into a smile. “It’s settled, then.”

“What’s settled?” Esme asked, peeking around the corner.

I saw the look on his face the instant his eyes met hers, and knew that it was time for me to make my exit. “We’re going on vacation,” I explained with a grin. “How’d you like to live on a tropical island, Esme?”

In his thoughts, I heard my words resonating with a sense of rightness. _Isle Esme…_


	4. South

**South**

After our hunt, we spent the next day pouring over maps. I thought his plan of an island was a good one. It would keep Esme safe – in other words, keep the humans safe from _her_ – and give them privacy from my intrusive presence. Although Carlisle insisted that he didn't find my mind reading intrusive, I felt that was because he had never had anything to hide from me before. A couple's relationship should be private.

Unlike Carlisle, Esme was uncomfortable knowing I could read her thoughts. I had seen the reason even before she woke, and it was the same reason she was even a part of our coven. Carlisle had told me how he'd first met her when she was a teenager – sixteen, younger than I was. He'd seen something in her that had captivated him. But, aside from the fact that he looked twenty-five, and she was sixteen, she was perfectly healthy – other than the broken leg he'd treated her for – and he was unwilling to take her from her life. Though Carlisle had hoped she would lead a happy life, hers had not been a pleasant one.

When she'd been brought to the hospital so close to death that they just went ahead and took her straight to the morgue, he couldn't help himself. He stole her away from the hospital and brought her home to change her as he had with me. I was happy for him. Three centuries was a long time to be alone – not counting the fact that he had _me_ now. We were good friends, father and son, but though there was love between us as such, it wasn't the same as a love interest.

While she'd burned from his venom, I'd had to escape from the house, though I had felt incredibly guilty in doing so. I'd seen her memories play out, the man she'd married, and the child she'd lost. My ability to read minds wasn't just hearing thoughts, though; I experienced their senses. I could look through Carlisle's eyes, hear through his ears, smell through his nose. And, apparently, when the sensation was strong enough, _feel_ as well. While Esme had burned in our home, I had, too. It hadn't been as bad as my own transformation, but my memories of my own death were too fresh, and feeling the echo of her pain her been unbearable.

When we'd told her about my… _gift_ … she'd known that I was able to see what her husband had done to her. I was infuriated by what she recalled, but it wasn't my place to tell her secrets to Carlisle. Knowing I could see them only caused her memories to surface more often. Ours had been an uneasy relationship so far because of the man she'd married _,_ not even counting the way she and Carlisle were attracted to each other.

I held high hopes that the time spent on an island without me would give them the chance to say what needed to be said, and give her the chance to heal – which was something that she desperately needed. Not just from her past, but because of the people she'd killed, too. It weighed on both of their consciences. I'd been a dutiful son to my human parents – or had tried to be, at any rate. I planned on doing the same for them. I needed for us to be a family, for her to heal, and for their relationship to work if I was going to stay.

What Carlisle had told me of covens was painfully apparent to me. Whether a mated pair or not, two vampires living together made a happy, healthy environment. Three, on the other hand, added a dynamic that was harder to manage. One would _always_ be excluded, and there would be strife because of it. That was why we needed to be a family, not a coven. It wasn't just a label, it was a mindset, and one worked where the other didn't.

My biggest concern was the trip down there. Rio de Janeiro was a long way from America, and we couldn't exactly take a train any part of the distance. Even driving a car would put us in too close contact with humans – not that we could count on there being navigable roads the whole way there. That meant many miles of running, which was not a problem in itself, but running with a newborn in tow exposed her to the potential of coming across humans again. The farther the distance we went, the greater the chances of her killing again, and none of us wanted that. And then, there was the war to worry about, too. All of the southern states, as well as Mexico and much of Central America were dangerous places for any vampire to be.

We were gathered in the living room, maps spread all over the floor, when I heard Esme sigh.

… _too bad we can't just swim there instead of run… no humans to kill in the ocean…_

"Esme, that's it!" I exclaimed with an excited grin.

"What?" Carlisle asked with hope in his eyes.

"I wasn't being serious, Edward." She wrinkled her nose at me.

"Well, why not? It's the perfect solution."

"Will one of you please explain?" Carlisle looked at me and I knew that by 'one of you' he'd meant _me._

"The ocean!" I grinned at them as though my explanation made everything obvious. When he stared at me, blankly, I elaborated. "Instead of running south, we run east. It's not that far to the coast from here."

"You really want us to swim to Brazil?" She eyed me in disbelief.

"Of course not. If we're going to live on an island, we'd need a boat anyway. Why not buy one here and just sail south?"

In their minds was instantly a nearly identical image. The three of us, on a sailboat, in the middle of the ocean, riding the wind toward our new home, with no humans in sight and no need to hide from the sun. Their eyes locked on each other and a slow grin spread over their faces.

I rolled my eyes at the direction their thoughts went the moment their eyes met. Snapping my fingers, I groaned, "Focus. Rio? Boats? _Not_ killing!" Their eyes snapped back to mine. Carlisle grinned ruefully and Esme scowled at me, but I smirked, delighted with her solution.

"That still leaves us with the problem of getting to the coast from here, but you're right, the distance is not that much greater than our move here." Carlisle was studying the maps again, tracing his fingers along the terrain between our current location and the coastal cities. "We'll take it slow. Just pack a few essentials, and board everything else up here. Anything else we need, we can get when we arrive. I can take our valuables to the bank in town tomorrow morning and get a security box. We'll leave as soon as I get back."

I hid a smile, knowing that his real reason for wanting to go to town the next day was not to make a _delivery_ to the bank, but a withdrawal, and then a visit to the jeweler's. I thought he was starting to feel more confident in her feelings toward him. Though I hadn't told him how she felt, he knew that if she hadn't returned his interest, I _would_ have said something. As when getting me to admit to my feelings of resentment toward her, my silence was as much of an answer as he needed. Those feelings of resentment were dwindling as the idea of accepting her as a mother took hold of me.

I knew the run to the coast would be trying for me. I'd have to keep my mind open constantly so no humans would ever get near enough for Esme to scent them. However, the reward of having a sanctuary and a family was well worth the few weeks of strain. If we ran flat out, I knew it wouldn't have taken that long, but we would not sacrifice safety for speed. We had eternity before us in which to relax.

As soon as Carlisle got back from his trip into town early that next morning, we took off, all of us running with hope in our steps. We made it across the Appalachian mountains and to the Carolina coast without incident. This was largely due to the fact that – except when necessary to speak - Esme refused to breathe nearly the entire time. We hunted for her, locating deer, coyotes, wolves, and bears for her to kill. It was odd to watch her feeding. Esme was such a gentle creature, but when she heard the beating hearts of her prey, she was a vicious killer, taking down animals two and three times her size. I knew that Carlisle found it extremely difficult to allow her to confront the predators, but they were no more of a threat to the newborn vampire than they were to either of us.

Neither Esme nor I had any experience sailing, but Carlisle had sailed to America from Italy, and had watched the sailors avidly. Not that this made him an expert by any means, but he had gathered many books over the years and, for a vampire, learning was not quite the same as it was for a human. Despite the fact that I had read through nearly every book Carlisle owned over the past three years, I wanted to go to the port and pick the minds of the men there, knowing that I would learn better by seeing into the minds of those with experience.

No longer the newborn vampire that Esme was, I could go among humans without fear that my reason would be overcome. I left them in the marsh that surrounded the port city and ran into town, excited to explore the available ships, but especially excited to explore the minds that I knew I would find there.

While I ran toward the bustling port city, I remembered the day that Carlisle had made my gift known to me. I was only a few months old, older than Esme was, but still young enough to be extremely dangerous. He had kept me at his home in the forest outside of Chicago, and when I wasn't hunting I was reading. Up until that point, I had thought it was him, placing his thoughts and senses into my mind.

I'd been reading a text on basic cellular anatomy while beside me, he'd studied a much more advanced text that he had recently acquired. It had been interesting, reading for myself while listening to him read at the same time. The advanced material had seemed to fit right into what I was reading, like peeking at the end of a novel to see how it ended, only there was no end to ruin in our case.

Concentrating on what we were reading, I didn't notice at first that an image of the forest around our house was presenting itself to me. I was constantly thirsty, so when I became aware of the image, I assumed it was merely Carlisle thinking of hunting, as he would have known that I would need to go out again, soon.

… _no deer around here …terrible hunting this year…_

"What was that?" I asked, absently.

"Hmm?"

"You were saying something about hunting?"

"No." He looked at me, and his forehead creased as our eyes met. Though they were no longer the vivid red that they had been the first time he'd shown the image of my eyes to me, they weren't his pure golden color, either. Rather, due to the mixture of animal blood, and my own remaining human blood, my eyes were a toxic orange color. I didn't mind this image so much anymore, because I knew that, with time, they would lose the red tint altogether, giving me a healthy gold of my own.

"I distinctly heard you mention deer," I insisted.

"What do you hear now?" he asked, his eyes widening with alarm.

Listening, I could detect only the image of myself from his mind, the one of the forest was gone. I shook my head, about to answer, 'nothing' when the forest came into view again, this time with a man in the image as well, picking his way through the thick trees.

"Who is _that?"_

"Who?"

"The man you're thinking of," I said. Only, as I did, I realized that the image didn't seem to be coming from Carlisle's mind. His mind was familiar to me due to all that he had shared with me over the past few months, but this image was rougher, dim and nearly colorless, and rather like the memories of my human life.

He paled and his eyes grew wide. "Edward, that's not me you're hearing."

I blinked in confusion. "You're telling me someone _else_ is placing their images in my mind?"

"Placing - ? Edward." He shook his head. _I thought you understood._ "No one is placing anything in your mind. You're hearing and seeing what is in mine. And, apparently, what is in some human's who is far too close to our cabin." _You need to stop breathing right now!_

" _Me?!_ You – I – What?" I stared at him, astonished. Along with the image of myself in Carlisle's mind, was one of the forest and another of a man walking. I saw the man turn his head to look in my direction, and the one of simply the forest now had another, different man. They were both carrying guns, and I realized I was seeing them looking at each other, each in the other's mind.

"Edward," he insisted, his eyes wide with fear. "Stop breathing. Now." I realized that my breaths were coming in fast gasps, and my mouth was full of the spicy honey that I'd come to understand was my venom. Just the mental image of the humans had me trembling with desire and thirst. I stopped the movement of air through my mouth and nose, but could still catch an echo of honey, though that could have been my venom, I wasn't sure.

… _exactly does his gift work? Can he tell direction? …need to get him away from them!_

"It's not helping, Carlisle. I'm not smelling them, I'm _seeing_ them. And closing my eyes isn't going to do any good!" I'd snarled in response to his next thought. In my three months, I'd never come close to a human. I was just grateful that their human ears weren't sensitive enough to detect their heartbeats. I didn't think I'd be able to resist sprinting out of the cabin to find them if I could hear their pulsing, flowing blood, running hot and thick through their veins and arteries, and –

I found myself face down on the floor with Carlisle pinning my arms behind me.

"What the hell, Carlisle?! Get off me!" I struggled against him, feeling a strong need to get up and _run._ Though I was far stronger than he was at that moment, he had my arms twisted so that his leverage allowed him to keep me in place.

 _No. You're not in control of yourself! You were about to go hunt them._ He showed me how he'd watched my eyes go from toxic orange to deadly black in seconds. I heard an odd metallic screeching that I couldn't identify and felt pain flare across my shoulders.

"Stop fighting me, Edward! Concentrate! Remember what you told me; you don't want to be a killer, do you?"

"Of course not! I just want to…" I trailed off, realizing that the need to run was secondary to the need to reach my destination, and what I knew I would find there. I swallowed hard, clearing my mouth of my venom. "Help me, Carlisle," I whispered, terrified.

"I'm trying," he said, calmly. "You say you can't smell them, so I want you to take a deep breath, fill your senses with _your_ surroundings, try to block out theirs." I followed his instructions, filling my nose with his wonderful cinnamon and nutmeg scent, the dry crinkle of the paper from the books we'd been reading, the wood of the floor that my face was pressed against, and the smell of the various fabrics from our clothes and the furniture in the cabin.

"Listen to my thoughts," he said. "Block out everything except for this room, and my mind." I focused on his familiar mind, realizing what I should have understood already as I did so. I'd listened to his thoughts, looked through his eyes, and smelled through his nose on countless occasions before, but whatever sight, sound, or scent I'd experienced had been due to my focus; not because he was placing them in my mind, but because I was taking them from his.

He couldn't manipulate minds; _I_ could read them. A world of possibility opened before me, and I found myself anticipating the time when I could be trusted around people.

Feeling my muscles relax as I calmed down, he breathed steadier. _Thank God._ "Now, carefully, I want you to think. Can you tell from which direction their thoughts are coming? Do you recognize where they are, their surroundings?"

Their minds were beckoning to me, and _not_ hearing them was far more difficult than finding them was. I found that I did get a sense of their direction, though I couldn't pinpoint their location exactly. It was no different than on my first hunt when I'd heard the stream to one side and the termites to the other.

"North," I answered, tensely.

"Alright. I'm going to let you up, and we're going to run south. If you find yourself wanting to turn back around, you tell me immediately. You hear me?"

I had nodded vigorously, anxious to be away from them.

"If you turn toward them at any point, I will not hesitate to remove one of your legs."

I craned my head around to stare at him in shock.

"Don't think I'm kidding."

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. The image of vampires with missing limbs was vivid in his mind. As soon as he had released me, I'd bolted through the door and was sprinting south, with Carlisle on my heals, fleeing from the humans that I didn't want to kill.

Now, though, I was sprinting _toward_ the humans, but with no intention of drinking anything other than their thoughts. I wanted to hear the city, to see the memories of the men sailing, of the salty wind in their hair, and the sun at their backs. I was excited about our trip, anticipating sailing on the ocean, and seeing the new place where we would live for the next year.

The sky was nice and overcast with thick grey clouds that blocked the sun, though there was a steady breeze that would blow them away from the city by the end of that day. I didn't think they looked heavy enough to drop their moisture, and anticipated being able to spend the whole day in the city.

My only concern was leaving Esme and Carlisle without the benefit of my mind reading, but my father had kept me from killing in my newborn year, and as long as he didn't allow himself to be distracted by the woman's allure again, I was sure they'd be glad for a little privacy. I hadn't left their side since we began our run, and they weren't going to get any time to themselves once we were on our boat. Not that I thought they were likely to do anything more than talk, but still, there were things better said in private.

Despite Carlisle's youthful exuberance as a human, I knew he respected Esme too much to indulge in any physical relationship with her before they were officially mated. I also knew that she had not told him of the reasons for her… fall… from the cliff. Her past would need to be addressed before they could move forward. I found myself growling as the image of the man who had been her husband entered my thoughts. For the first time, I found myself _wanting_ to be a human hunter, rather than a vampire who drank animals.

How _dare_ that man hit my mother!

I stopped short, shocked at the thought. Smiling, I realized I'd just thought of Esme as my mother. I started to laugh and began my run again. This was going to work! We were going to be a family, I was certain of it.

Upon my arrival in the port city, I made my way through the middle of the downtown area, strolling through the marketplace, my mind filled with the thoughts of hundreds of people. I let them flow through me, not bothering to separate the voices out. I was enjoying walking in the city, pretending to be human again. The minds around me were fascinating, and I listened to bits and pieces of conversations and thoughts, smirking as I caught the young women watching me. I shook my head ruefully. If they'd had any idea of what I _really_ was, their interest would turn to terror. They may have found me attractive, even though I was dirty from our run through the mountains, but I was a carnivorous flower, and they were safe only because by maintaining my distance, I didn't _want_ to kill them.

The thought brought me to a halt. Carlisle had found Esme, but it had taken him nearly three centuries, and he'd had to change her himself. What was the likelihood that I would find my soul mate moments away from death, and have enough restraint to change her rather than drink her? With sudden clarity, I saw the centuries passing me by, as I lived with my parents – the eternal teenager. A member of their family, yes, but essentially alone.

Like Carlisle, I would never commit someone to this life when they had any other option. He and I might not see eye to eye on the reasons _why_ , but we did agree on one thing, at least: changing a healthy person solely for the sake of obtaining their company was _wrong,_ even if he didn't believe it was murder, as I did. He insisted that I wasn't dead, though I still didn't understand how he could believe otherwise. Worse than knowing that I was dead was the very vivid memory of feeling my soul being ripped from my body. What was the use of finding a soul mate if I was only going to steal her soul away from her?

Hearing one young woman's intentions to approach me, I looked up. Seeing me look in her direction, her walk became exaggerated, and a smile spread across her face. Angry, I scowled at her. What business had I in talking to a human girl? Nothing good could ever come of it. Meeting my eyes, she flushed and hurried past me, pretending to have business elsewhere. I sighed, frustrated, and kept walking.

The peninsula jutted out into the harbor, separated from the mainland by two rivers that ran on either side. The scents of the city were many and fascinating, and, at times, offensive. The rivers brought the smell of dead fish which was unpleasant enough on its own. The sewer systems still smelled of the new cement from which they'd been built, but the scents of human waste were worse. There were drains that emptied the streets of excess rainwater, but to me, they served as vents from below the city whose sole purpose seemed to be to assault my nose. Deciding I might not love the city quite so much as I had first thought, I held my breath and strolled over to the shipyard.

The war that I was to have been a part of was over, but that didn't stop the navy from continuing to build new ships. I leaned back against the railing that ran along the pier, watching avidly as the workers swarmed over the dry dock, attaching various sized and shaped pieces of wood to the nearly completed ship's hull. I listened to the workers' minds. Even though I'd read Carlisle's books on the subject, I was finding their thoughts almost like listening to a foreign language. Still, since the names of their tools and the boat's sections and parts were accompanied by a mental image of their location and purpose, I quickly picked up the terminology. I couldn't stop smiling as I watched the boat being built. Closely following their minds was nearly as good as being among them myself.

"Kid. Hey, kid!"

Pulling myself out of their minds, I found myself staring at an officer, his white uniform neatly pressed and heavily decorated.

Seeing that he had my attention, he gestured toward the partly built ship. "Thinking of joining the navy? This is a good time to be part of our country's protective services, and I see you have an eye for the lines of a fine ship."

I smiled and shook my head. "Thank you, sir, but no." _Kid_ , I scoffed to myself. I was twenty years old!

"Well, that's a shame. The way you were staring at our newest addition, I was sure you were fascinated by the life of a sailor."

"I am, but I won't be joining any military branches."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You don't think protecting our country is important? Just because the war is over doesn't mean the threat is gone. Surely your father or mother would be proud to see you serving your country."

My lips twisted. Yes, Edward Sr. would have been. Carlisle, however, believed humanity was better served in other ways than killing. "My father is a doctor," I said, stiffly, "and believes in saving lives, not taking them."

"Hmph. Well, if you change your mind, you'd be welcome to join us. Nothing beats life on the open ocean."

"Actually, as I said, I am interested in sailing. My parents are planning on purchasing a ship, so I came here to see…"

"Ah, a civilian's boat." He shrugged his shoulders, and I could hear the difference between 'ship' and 'boat' in his disparaging tone. "Well, you won't find any here. The shipyard is strictly for building military vessels."

I nodded. "Yes, I had noticed that."

"I've seen what you're looking for, though."

I saw in his mind the image of a small marina, hidden from the eyes of the public with a few dozen boats floating against the piers. Excitement coursed through me at the image of the sleek boats.

"Many of the islands off of our coast have private clubs and docks for the use of those who can afford a membership. I doubt they'd let _you_ onto their premises," he looked me up and down, and I saw that I looked exactly as though I had been running barefoot through the mud for the past two weeks. "But if your father were to approach them, they may be able to find him a boat for sale, or point him in the direction of a shipwright so he can commission one for himself."

"Thanks a lot!" I grinned at him.

"Sure thing, kid." He smirked at me before continuing on his way, and I saw the doubt in his mind that I even _had_ a father, much less one capable of buying a sailboat, but as a ranking officer, he was too polite to say so out loud. He had a point. If I were going to have anything to do with the wealthy citizens who would own boats, or sell or build them, I really should look the part. 5

When I had burned from Carlisle's venom, he had not left my side once. Later, after I woke, he knew that it was necessary to officially explain the absence of my body from the hospital. With strong reservations at leaving a newborn in his home alone, he'd gone back to the hospital to secure my mother's valuables, and to fake a bit of paperwork stating my healthy release. Though I hadn't realized it at the time, he'd also drawn up the papers with a lawyer which would allow me to inherit my family's home and assets.

We'd made sure that I was well fed first, and I had spent the time he was gone engrossed in his plethora of books. I was grateful that all that my family had worked for was not lost to me. I was also quite grateful not to have to depend on him so completely. I had my own money and could spend it as I chose.

At that moment, I chose to purchase some new clothes, and to rent a hotel room where I could take a bath and make myself presentable. At first the front desk worker had not wanted to let me into their building. She felt I looked too wild and filthy to be trusted.

"Look," I finally told her angrily. "I _know_ I'm dirty. Why else do you think I want a room? You would be dirty, too, if you had spent the past week in the marsh, supervising the construction of your new house." I placed a stack of bills on the counter with a bit too much force – not enough to damage the wood, but my hand still made a very loud impact – and glared at the woman. "I only plan on staying for a day or two, but here's enough for the month. Now, may I _please_ have a room?"

It had been several days since my last meal, and my eyes were no longer the bright gold of a well-fed vampire, but neither were they the threatening black of a thirsty one. However, the fear that simply meeting a vampire's eyes – not to mention an _angry_ one - caused a human to instinctively feel had her fumbling for a key, simply to get me out of her lobby. The room actually had a shower, and I delighted as much in the feeling of the hot water on my cold skin as I did in getting the dirt off of me. I washed my filthy clothes as well and changed into the new ones I had bought. When I left the room a couple of hours later, I felt like a new man. Apparently, I looked like one, too, judging by the look the clerk gave me as I sauntered past her with a wink.

I made my way to the nearest island, easily finding the gated community and slipping inside, unnoticed. Following my nose toward the strong ocean scent, I paced among the stately homes of the rich, seeking out the country club where I was sure the yachts would be docked. When I found them, I couldn't stop staring. Pressing myself against the fence, I stared in fascination at the shapes and colors. Their bows were just curved upwards, the hulls sleek and slightly rounded, the masts stood straight and tall, and all of the ropes gave them a geometric shape that was pleasing to my eyes.

For nearly an hour I stood in that spot, staring and listening. Unlike at the shipyard, none of the people around these boats were thinking of how they worked, or even thinking of sailing them at all. They were totally absorbed in their lives and in measuring themselves to one another. Disappointed, I realized that if I wanted to learn how to sail, I was going to have to speak to someone, or go back to the shipyard.

But first, I wanted to talk to someone in charge, to see if it were even possible to purchase one of these boats. I climbed the wide steps that led up to the front door, and let myself inside. The front room was cavernous, with high ceilings, and many groupings of couches, chairs, and tables where the members could gather. Off to one side, was a door marked Manager, and I listened, verifying that he was there. Glancing around, I saw another door, marked Lavatory. Deciding a hand shake was probably in my future, I went to the lavish bathroom to wash my hands in hot water.

My skin would only hold the warmth briefly, so I hurried back to the manager's office. I knocked on the door, and heard a call of, "Come in," from the man inside.

Not needing to fake the smile on my face, I strode up to the man with confidence, extending my hand for a quick shake. He rose from his seated position behind the desk, to take my proffered hand, as I spoke.

"Hello. I hope you don't mind me barging in on you while you are working, but I'm new in town, and was hoping you could help me."

… _heard that new Bradley family had a son…_

Taking the name he provided, I lied with ease, "My name is Anthony Bradley."

"Nice to meet you, Anthony. I'm Mr. Winters. What brings you by, today?"

I laughed, trying to get into the roll. "To be honest, a fascination with the ocean."

"Well, you've moved to the right town, then!" _…have to do with me…_

"My father is as excited by our move to your beautiful island as I am, but we were looking for more than a swim on the beach. He intends to explore the coast, and do some off-shore fishing, but first…"

"You'll be needing a dock to park your ship."

"Well… that's the problem, you see. We don't own one, yet."

"Ah."

"As you are the manager of this," I glanced around, making my expression appreciative, "impressive facility, I was hoping that you might know of anyone in the market to sell theirs, or if you knew of a place where we could purchase one."

"I don't personally know of any of our members who are looking to sell, but I can point you toward the most popular of the builders in town. Rowling's has made most of our members' yachts."

Hiding my disappointment at not getting an easier purchase, I smiled, pleasantly. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

He gave me detailed directions – I'd have to leave the island – and I left, after taking another long look at the floating vessels. Deciding it would be better if Carlisle approached the builder – and knowing that I had been away from my family for too long – I headed back to the marsh, stopping by the hotel first to change back into my earlier clothes.

When I neared the place in the marshy forest where I had left Carlisle and Esme, they weren't there, but I was easily able to follow their scent to a low hill where they sat, looking at the river. I stopped, astonished, when I caught the fury in Carlisle's thoughts.

Hearing my steps, he looked at me, and I gasped when I met his eyes. I'd never seen him so angry! She was curled into a ball beside him, hugging her knees into her chest. I couldn't catch her thoughts, only the image of the man whom I had begun to hate with a growing passion.

 _You knew!_ he accused me.

She'd told him, I realized. Slowly I nodded.

His mouth twisted with anger and pain, and he looked away from me. _Of course you knew. How could you not?_ He glanced at me again. _You should have told me!_

My eyes widened in alarm and I shook my head.

"Esme," he murmured, gaining her attention. "I'll be right back." He nodded in my direction and I felt my lips twitch in an uncomfortable smile when I met her eyes. We walked just far enough that she wouldn't be able to hear our quiet conversation before Carlisle confronted me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"It wasn't my place," I insisted, offended.

"I know it's not right to divulge other people's inner-most thoughts, but this - !"

"It was something _she_ should have told you, not me." I crossed my arms, my lips pressed firmly together.

He groaned angrily, and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Still, I wish I'd have known. I would have been more careful."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, "What happened?"

Sighing, he showed me his memory of what happened after I'd left for my run to the city. They'd hunted for and found some coyotes. The animals had fought back, and newborns weren't noted for their neat eating habits. I had certainly been dirty and bloody after my first hunt. While seeing my own bloody face hadn't upset me at the time, far too often I had seen similar images in her mind from her human life. I wanted to flinch at the image of blood on her mouth, but Carlisle had laughed in delight.

" _You're a mess, my dear,"_ he'd teased her.

" _Ugh, all this running isn't helping my hair at all! What I wouldn't give for a proper bath!"_ She'd grinned back at him.

" _Your hair is lovely, as always. A little windswept, perhaps, but that only adds to your allure."_

She'd looked away from him, smiling, and I thought if she were a human, she'd have been blushing. I knew she wasn't used to being complimented in such a way.

" _No, I meant this."_ He'd reached his hand to brush against her face, intending to wipe the blood from her meal away from her mouth, but seeing his hand suddenly so close to her face, she'd flinched away. It was an automatic response, and judging by her expression, I was sure she'd regretted it instantly.

He'd paused, surprised at her reaction.

" _Sorry,"_ she'd whispered.

"' _Sorry'?"_ he'd repeated. _"For what?"_

She had shaken her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

Slowly, he had placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face towards his. She had met his eyes only briefly, glancing into them and then away, despite the fact that her face was tilted up toward his.

" _Esme,"_ he'd whispered. _"Did you think I would hurt you?"_

" _Not… not really. I don't think you're capable of that. But…"_

" _But?"_ he'd pressed.

She had hesitated, but he waited patiently, and she finally spoke. _"I hadn't thought_ he _was, either."_

For a moment, he'd pictured the times when I'd had to chase her in order to prevent her from killing. I was faster than he was by far, but due to her newborn strength, she was as fast as I, and I'd been hard pressed to catch her – and not always successful. He couldn't help but to remember the times he'd caught up to us to find me scrambling away from her, exclaiming, _"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't hurt you, I swear!"_

Having caught her, and brought her back to reason, she'd been terrified to find herself in my iron grip, and my expression had mirrored hers: pain and fear and _anger_ , and it was this anger on my face that he was picturing now.

"No!" I practically yelled at him.

"I know! I'm sorry, I knew it wasn't you. It was just your expression then that had made me wonder… From where did all the anger come? Yours _and_ hers? She should have been relieved that you stopped her from killing. I hadn't thought you had any reason to be angry with each other, but you seemed to be, and I didn't understand."

"I wish I could say the same," I muttered.

" _I_ wish there hadn't been a reason for it," he hissed, as furious as I'd ever seen him.

"As do I. The bastard was her _husband_." I paused and then growled, "If you ever decide to give up the animal diet, Carlisle, I know who should be your first – "

Shocked, he exclaimed, "Edward!" His eyes were flashing with anger at me.

Scowling, I looked away. "Sorry."

He nodded, accepting my apology. "Her husband," he repeated in a flat voice.

"She didn't tell you?" I asked, surprised.

"We… didn't really talk much after that." I caught an image of her face crumpling before he'd folded her in his arms, holding her through her tearless cries.

"I'm just glad that most of her memories of him seem to have blurred."

"Blurry or not, they still hurt."

"Trust me, I'm well aware of _that."_ I couldn't keep the bitter tone out of my voice. Watching her memories was painful for both of us.

He looked back toward the hill where Esme sat, waiting. In a low voice, he asked, "Is _he_ why she tried to kill herself?"

I shrugged. "You should ask her that question."

He sighed. "I know, but I don't want to hurt her. And I'm not sure if talking about it will help her to heal, or make the memories that she still has of him become more clear to her." He paused, studying the woman who sat motionless with her back to us. "Please, Edward. I'm not asking you to go into detail. But in order to help her, I need to understand what happened to her."

I ran my hands through my hair, considering how to answer him. "I can't really answer your question, Carlisle, because there is no simple answer. I could say yes, and I could say no, and both would be right. And both would be wrong."

He nodded, understanding.

"Give her time," I suggested.

"Time, I've got," he said with a sad smile. "It's only been a few months. She'll tell me when she's ready." He laughed sourly. "Some coven leader I am. I counsel you to be patient, to think before you act, and yet I can only think of how very long I've waited for her and how ready I am to start a life with her."

"Ah, well, love makes people crazy. Or so I hear." I felt my lips twist at my words. Three hundred years was a long time, and yet, it was but a small span of eternity. Would I ever find anyone? How could I? I sighed, knowing I'd be forever alone.

Correctly interpreting my mood, he gripped my shoulder. "It will happen for you, too. When you least expect it."

"I don't see how."

"Of course not. If we all knew what our futures held, it would take the adventure out of our lives. A little uncertainty makes life interesting."

"Well, life should be interesting enough right now," I muttered, changing the subject. "I found the name of a place where we might be able to get a ship, but I don't think you want to wait around in this marsh for the next few months while one is built any more than I do."

"Hardly. That would defeat the purpose."

I nodded and shrugged. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and the builder will know someone who is looking to sell, or perhaps will have one waiting for you when you get there."

"That's the spirit." He grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes and gave him the directions the yacht club's manager had given to me. I gave them privacy – what little I could – while he said his goodbye to her before he took off for the city, with his first planned stops to be a clothing store and the hotel room I had rented. He was in need of a shower and a change himself, especially if we were going to purchase a sailboat. He'd have to look the part of the successful doctor just as I had had to look the part of the doctor's son.

I sat beside Esme to wait on Carlisle's return, thinking of the ships I'd seen, and going over what the men's minds had shown me. Concentrating on my trip into the city, I wasn't paying attention to Esme's thoughts, when she suddenly spoke to me.

"What were your parents like, Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Your mother? And – and your father? What were they like?"

"Oh. Well, Mom loved music. One of the clearest memories I have is of her singing while she cooked."

"And your father?" she whispered.

"I don't remember him as well. He worked a lot," I shrugged.

She nodded, accepting what I didn't say.

"Carlisle is my father, now," I said, proud to be able to speak the words.

"Do you ever think about going to visit them? At least, to just see… if they're alright. You know, without you there."

Alarmed, and slightly angry, I spoke sharper than I meant to, saying, "You aren't thinking of visiting _him,_ are you? Please tell me you aren't worried about his well-being!"

"N-no!," she denied.

I glared at her, not believing her.

Sighing, she mumbled, "I was all he had."

"You were better than he deserved," I growled. "And anyway, that life was over for you even before you became a vampire. What reason is there to go back now?"

"None, I suppose. But I also had family. My mom and dad, my sisters, my grandmother. I'd like to know how they are doing. I know I can never visit them, but I guess I just wondered if you wished you could visit your family, too."

"I'd be visiting their graves," I smiled at her to take the sting out of the words.

"Oh. Sorry."

I shrugged. "Don't be. They died of the same disease that killed me."

"'Killed _you'?!"_ She stared at me in shock at my phrasing.

I shrugged again and looked away from her, uncomfortable.

"Do you believe us to be _dead?"_ _…can you think such a thing?!_

I didn't answer her right away, but as she stared at me, I heard her thoughts, and forced myself to speak. "My heart doesn't beat. I'll never grow older. And… I _remember_ dying," I finished in a whisper.

"That's not how I remember it," she said, firmly.

I gaped at her. "How is that possible? I know that you burned from his venom, just as I did. Didn't you feel your heart stop?"

"I remember it like being born again. Yes, it was painful, but births always are. As you said, my old life was over. My new one is just beginning."

"Perhaps," I said, unconvinced.

"I didn't want to live anymore. Now, I will live forever. You were not ready to die. Now, you never will."

"That doesn't mean I'm alive. And I _can_ die. I can be killed," I insisted.

"Then doesn't that automatically mean you have a life to end?" She quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Well, maybe I should say: I can be destroyed. Or my body can be. But that doesn't mean I'm alive until that happens."

She glared at me, and when she spoke, her words were hard and angry. "Then what's the point of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you are already dead, why bother resisting human blood? If you are not alive, why do you try so hard to make Carlisle happy? Or to stop me from killing again?"

I sighed. "You sound like Carlisle."

She grinned at me. "He's a smart man."

I smirked at her, amused.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I am who I was," I repeated Carlisle's words to me from so long ago. "Living creatures change and grow. _We_ do not. For as long as I can remember – or at least, as much of my life as I _can_ remember – I wanted my father to be proud of me. That hasn't changed, just because who my father is has."

"And since he doesn't drink humans, you do not? I don't think that reason alone would be enough to stop you."

I caught the powerful memory of the way humans had tasted to her, and shivered in horrified desire.

"I know firsthand what it tastes like to drink human blood, what it feels like, and if there weren't some other reason for you to stick to animals, I don't think you would have."

"Well, why do _you?_ You've already drunk humans. What's stopping you from continuing?"

She laughed uncomfortably. "Touché." She thought for a moment, and I caught a flow of images from her, a woman who I thought was her mother, a young girl I didn't recognize, going to church, sitting at a desk, and – overlaid upon every image – Carlisle's golden eyes. "It's not the only reason, but I guess I want his approval just as much as you do."

"Trust me, you've got it." I smiled at her, hoping that she would see that she had mine, as well. "Anyway, you didn't do it on purpose. Going out with the intent of killing is wrong," I nodded, firmly.

"What do right and wrong matter if you're already dead?"

Pointing in the direction that Carlisle had run, I demanded, "Are you _trying_ to convince me to go drink the humans in that city?!"

"No. I'm trying to convince you that there is more to your choices than a desire to make the vampire who created you happy."

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

She pressed me, "Why do some humans have a lot of money, and others very little?"

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"What is to stop those with nothing from taking from those with everything?"

"Um. _Nothing_. They _do._ It's why there are thieves and murderers in jail right now."

"Many criminals are never caught."

"But the potential for being caught and then punished for their crimes is still there, and enough of a deterrent for most humans."

"I've killed people with no consequences to be paid. There is no jail that can hold me, and if I never die, I will never go to Hell for my sins. Why should I care what I do if I'm already dead and will never be held accountable for my choices?"

"Esme…" I sighed.

"Why should a dead creature care?"

"Just because we're dead doesn't mean we can't be killed!" I repeated. "I've seen Carlisle's memories of vampires being killed. Trust me, it's not a fate you want to experience."

She sighed, frustrated with me, and I couldn't help but to laugh at her.

"Yes," I agreed, responding to her thought. "My human mother thought me stubborn, too."

… _human mother?_ she picked up on the phrase, and I turned away with a shrug, not ready for that particular conversation.

Trying to cover up my slip, I teased her, "Yet another thing about me that will never change." I grinned at her, feeling cocky.

She met my grin with sadness on her face. _…like to think that I can change… grow beyond what I was…_

Feeling bad, I lost my grin. "Well, maybe I am wrong, then. I've seen Carlisle change, after all."

"Have you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"When?" Her face took on the same look I'd seen on his whenever he thought about her: excited, fascinated, and a little bit like a silly, giddy teenager.

I just laughed.

"Tell me!" she demanded, grinning.

Grinning back at her, I laughed again. "Hmm, no. It's not right to divulge other people's secrets." My voice was smug and teasing, but she gasped and looked away from me.

"Esme, I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean – "

"No," she stopped me, her voice barely a whisper. "I know. It's just… is that why you didn't tell him? About me? I know you knew."

"Just because I can hear your thoughts doesn't mean I know your entire story. What happened to you is something that _you_ should tell him. And you _should_ tell him."

She averted her face, trying to hide her bitter expression and her thoughts, but I clearly heard her and gasped in anger. _…won't want damaged goods…_

"No! Don't you even think that! He doesn't! And neither do I."

… _never change then that's what I always will be…_

I groaned at my insensitivity. I would _always_ be the impulsive, unthinking teenager! There was nothing that could possibly change _that._ Unsure of how to comfort the woman without making things even worse, we sat in silence while I tried to ignore her memories.

Finally, using her analogy, I questioned her, "Would you consider the person who had money stolen from them to blame, or the one who _did_ the thieving?"

"Perhaps they should have been more careful. Taken a different way home. Not gone with the thief in the first place."

"You trusted him. It's not your fault that he didn't deserve it."

"I chose to marry him."

"Did you know what he was like before?"

"No. He was… very charming. It wasn't until later that I discovered that was just an act."

"You aren't the first person to find that the person they married is not who they thought they were. Again, the blame lies with him, not you."

"I could have left sooner."

"You _did_ leave."

She was silent for a few minutes while she struggled with whatever thought she was trying to hide. The more she tried not to think it, the stronger it became, until I clearly heard her think, _If I hadn't stayed so long, perhaps my child would have lived._

"How can you believe that you were to blame for that? For any of it?" I whispered, uncomprehending.

"How can you believe that you are dead?" she countered.

I groaned. "You really should be talking to Carlisle about this. He would know what to say."

"There's nothing that can be said that will change what was."

"No, but I'll bet he could help you to change how you feel about it."

She bit her lip. "You're right. That life is over for me, now. Worrying about it at this point is silly, isn't it?"

"By no means. I just… don't know how to help you."

… _sometimes just talking helps…_

"That's my point. Talk to him."

She nodded. "When the time is right. But not… not now."

A few hours later, Carlisle finally returned, wearing a big smile and carrying a large bag, as well as an enormous metal basin.

"You look mighty pleased with yourself," Esme observed.

"I believe _someone_ requested a proper bath?"

She gasped, her face lighting up. _…a bath!_

"Even though cold river water doesn't bother us, I thought you might like a hot bath with shampoo and soap. Plus I got a few changes of clothes for you since we had to leave most of them behind."

I groaned, "Well, that's nice of you, Carlisle, but I'm guessing this means you _didn't_ buy a boat today?"

"You are correct."

I growled, about to pester him for details, but his next thought stopped me.

… _not yet!_

With an excited gasp, I waited for him to continue.

"Rowling's is just finishing a schooner for a client of theirs who already owned a smaller sloop, which he won't need now…"

Already excited about the idea of sailing, I couldn't hide my enthusiasm and didn't bother trying. "Did you get his address or telephone number?"

"I did." He eyed me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, deliberately hiding what he was thinking to prolong the anticipation.

Esme came to my rescue. "Well, don't keep us waiting, Carlisle!"

He laughed. "He agreed to take us out this weekend for a test sail, which I'm hoping you can use, Edward, to pick his brain for sailing instructions, and then, assuming it's in any kind of decent condition, we can buy it from him when we get back to shore."

"Also assuming that the weather is cooperative. We can't exactly hide from the sun on a sailboat."

"True, but if it looks clear, we'll just have to postpone him for a few days. I got the impression he was quite grateful to be rid of the second boat. It sounded like his wife was not happy to have an unused ship floating against the docks, just costing them money."

Esme's smile faltered. _…keep from killing without them around…_

"You'll be _fine,"_ I insisted.

 _What?_ Carlisle looked at me, frowning.

"Will I be meeting the boat owner alone?"

"Ah, no. I tried, but he wasn't keen on the idea of taking a teenager out for a test drive. _I'm_ the one buying the boat, and trying to talk him into letting you make that decision for me was making him suspicious of my urgency."

"I know you left me alone in your cabin, at times, Carlisle, but the middle of the marsh isn't exactly private," I hinted.

"No, of course not. I scouted the coast while I was there, and asked our boat owner if any of the nearby islands were unoccupied. I thought we could camp for the rest of the week on one, and then once our purchase was made, we'd just sail over and pick you up, Esme."

I grinned at Carlisle's solution and turned my smile toward Esme. She had a pleased smile as well, and her thoughts were turning back toward how wonderful and thoughtful Carlisle was, not to mention, so _very_ handsome…

I pretended to clear my throat, trying to distract her. "So! Let's _go!"_


	5. The Island

**The Island**

… _been gone so long."_

" _He's fine."_

" _What if he got lost?"_

" _He's got a wide range. He can probably hear you right now."_

" _Then he should know that he should surface soon!"_

Bursting out of the water with a whoop and a laugh, I caught up with the sailboat in a few strokes.

"Edward! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Hah! Your heart would have to be beating for that to happen, Esme," I pointed out as I climbed over the side and onto the deck. "Look what I found this time!" I grinned at them as I displayed the treasures I had found. Holding them up one by one, I emptied the bag of shells for them to see. Whelk of all shapes and colors, clams, a few starfish, shrimps, crabs, and a very spiny lobster had all made their way into the bag I'd brought.

"You were gone for such a long time," Esme scolded me. "These are all very nice, but I was worried!"

Rolling my eyes, I laughed at her. "You should come with me next time. There's nothing to worry about; you'll see."

"What if you got lost? You can't exactly follow your scent back from underwater."

"I kept you in range the entire time."

"The ocean is dangerous!"

Snickering at her, my mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "You've taken on fully grown grizzly bears. Do you really think any sea creatures could hurt me?" I poked at one of the crabs and laughed as it tried to pinch my finger.

"I told you he was fine, Esme," Carlisle said.

She bit her lip, before admitting, "I'm not a good swimmer."

"You swam to that island with no trouble."

"Yes, but I didn't go _under."_

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Worried about drowning?"

"Well… no."

"Come _on!"_ I urged her. "Swim with me! You can help me put these back in their homes." Piling the shells back into the bag, I grabbed Esme's hand and tugged her toward the railing.

"Well… I guess. Ugh, fine," she sighed. "But let me change, first."

She disappeared below decks to change into a swimsuit while I leaned against the railing to watch the waves. I hadn't been able to stop grinning since we'd started our southerly sail. The salty breeze, the sounds of the ocean, and the feeling of flying as the boat cut through the light waves were all exhilarating!

Catching my eye, Carlisle grinned back at me.

"This was a good idea," he commented. "I don't know that I've ever seen you this happy."

"Sailing is fun," I shrugged. "And it was Esme's idea, really."

"Alright," she sighed as she came back up the stairs. "Let's go."

Feeling mischievous, I launched myself back over the side and into the water, making sure to create as big a splash as possible.

 _Edward!_ Carlisle thought at me. _You got me wet on purpose!_

Surfacing again, I laughed at him. "Of course I did. You should come swimming, too!"

"Who would steer the boat?" _…or should we pause our journey for a bit?_

Coming to a swift decision, I pulled myself back out of the water. "Me. You two go." Sure, we could have lowered the sails and dropped our anchor, but I liked the idea of the two of them exploring the reefs together, and I had a feeling that he did, too.

He eyed me dubiously for a brief second, then zipped below and returned, wearing a grin and swim trunks of his own. Placing myself in the captain's seat, I watched through their eyes as beneath the surface, Carlisle held his hand out to Esme, and together, they swam toward the bottom of the ocean.

Our sail toward the southern continent was leisurely. We were in no hurry, riding the light wind and making frequent forays into the forests and jungles to hunt – after I made sure there were no humans nearby, of course. Carlisle had questioned the man we'd bought it from thoroughly, and I had listened avidly to his thoughts, soaking up all of the details on how to operate the sailboat both on open waters and close to shore. The three of us took turns piloting the sloop, and I knew it gave Esme a great sense of freedom to be placed in charge of the vessel.

Carlisle and I had traveled a good bit after my first year, but we had stuck to the northern towns and forests. The clear, blue waters of the Caribbean, the bright sun, and the unfamiliar species of animals we hunted were a fascinating experience for me. He, of course, had seen it before, but this time, having a coven traveling with him, it was a new and enjoyable trip for him, too.

And, of course, Esme was always on his mind. He would watch the wind blowing her hair away from her face, the way her skin would sparkle in the sunlight, the contrasting white of her skin with the deep black of the nights on the open water, and he was acutely aware of each time she laughed. I tried not to let it bother me, knowing that the more attached to her he became, the more like a family we would be.

Esme, too, was conscious of Carlisle, and the way their eyes always seemed to find each other's, the sound of his voice whenever he said her name, the way his quiet smiles always made her want to smile back. Aside from the fact that I found swimming in the open ocean to be great fun, removing myself from the small ship gave them at least the semblance of privacy, and they'd finally started talking. She prompted him to share his early years with her, and he told her all about his travels in the part of the world for which we were heading.

The conversation I thought they really needed was the way he'd discovered he could live on animal blood, and the many ways prior to that that he had attempted to end his life. I thought it would help her to open up if she saw that he had gone through something similar. I stayed out of it, though. They'd get there, eventually. At the moment, he was more concerned with making her feel secure with us and her own future than in recovering from her past, and I supposed understood his thinking. If she had something to look forward to, it could help her to stop looking back.

Nearly three months after starting our journey south, we were anchored at last off the coast of the city for which we'd been heading. Esme and I stayed aboard the ship, letting Carlisle take the dinghy to shore. We'd circled many of the islands off the coast, and I knew that there were plenty of uninhabited options available to us. The trick would be finding one we could buy.

Esme and I were dangling our legs over the side, resting our arms against the railing as we watched anxiously for his return. He'd been gone for hours already, but we didn't expect the process to be a quick one. The long trip had enhanced our coven ties even further than they were before, and we both missed his comforting presence already.

Her eyes were losing their red color and taking on the orange tint from the animals. Mine had made the turn much sooner, but then I hadn't had the accidents that she had. However, a six month old vampire was still too young to be trusted around humans, regardless of how much time had passed since her last human meal. I would have liked to be in Rio with Carlisle to help him, but we hadn't wanted to abandon Esme on the ship by herself, and, as with the boat, he was the one who had to make the purchase.

So, we waited together. And while we waited, we talked.

"You seem much happier," I commented.

She shrugged, smiling slightly. "It's been nice not having to worry about anything for a change. I spent so much of my life worrying over one thing or another. It's been a relief not to have to."

I nodded. I'd felt the same relief once we'd reached the open waters and I no longer feared that I would fail to hear a human in time to stop her from killing again.

"Well, soon you won't have to worry even about losing control. Once that's gone, what could be left for you to worry about?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," she muttered, sourly.

I laughed at her. "Now you sound like me."

She grinned at me. "What a coven we make, huh? All of us worried over futures that will never come."

Frowning, I stared at her. "What could you mean by that?"

She shrugged and looked away, refusing to answer.

… _doesn't matter._

"Of course it matters. What future worries you?"

"It doesn't matter because it can't happen."

"Then why are you worried?"

"Because I wish it would," she whispered.

I considered her words for a moment before admitting, "Alright, now you've lost me."

She sighed. "Good."

"Esme," I scolded.

I saw the memory she was trying to repress. Herself in the hospital, but not from broken bones for a change. In her arms was a tiny human, perfectly formed even down to miniature eyelashes and fingernails. The image blurred over and over as tears swelled into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh."

"It doesn't matter," she said sternly.

"It will get better," I tried to reassure her. "Human memories fade."

She bit her lip. "I don't think so. You said we never change. I've _always_ wanted to be a mother. Now, I never will be. No one can say anything that will change how I feel about that."

Thinking back to what Carlisle had asked me, I muttered, "Don't be so sure."

"You aren't really trying to tell me that vampires can have children?" She stared at me, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

I had to shudder at the image in her mind of a newborn baby vampire. She was a newborn, too, but also an adult, and still her reason had been overcome, and people had died as a result. What little Carlisle had told me of immortal children had been horrifying, and was not something he had shared with her, yet.

"Not exactly. I'm not saying you can have another baby, but you could always adopt." I hesitated, glancing at her from the corner of my eyes.

She was frowning at me, imagining human children being accidentally hurt or killed by our excessive strength. I grimaced at the images she was seeing. All of the children in her mind were _children_.

Still unsure that she would want her infant replaced with a seventeen year old, I pointed out, "I wasn't _born_ Carlisle's son."

"You?" she gasped.

I shrugged, and looked away from her. "I may not be a child, but that doesn't mean you can't be a mom."

She was silent, and the only thing I saw in her mind was my face, averted from her as I stared out at the bay.

"You already have Carlisle," she eventually whispered.

"It's alright," I muttered, embarrassed by how much I'd looked forward to us being a family. "We can just be friends. But the fact remains: eternity is a long time to go without something that you want. You do have options."

"Wouldn't he be… upset? I don't want him to think I'm taking you from him."

I laughed and shook my head. "Upset? He's the one who suggested it!"

"Why? I thought you two were close."

I sighed. "We are. _Very_. He's my father, and I'm proud to call him that. But… Esme, where do you see yourself in another year? Once your thirst grows manageable, are you going to leave us?"

"No!"

"Well, then, if you're staying with us, what do you want your role to be? Do you want to be my sister and his daughter? Of course, simple friendship would be fine, too. If that's what you wanted."

"I've tried not to think about it." She gave a nervous chuckle. "Like I said, it's been nice not having to worry."

"There's no need to worry about it now. Or ever. You can have whatever future you want. Whether that's with us or not. Carlisle has told you of the covens he's known. Sometimes they stay together for many years, centuries, even. Sometimes they go their separate ways. Sometimes they part as friends, sometimes not."

She chewed on her lip, imagining herself alone, exploring the cities as he had. She shook her head. "What would you like? And him? What does he want my role to be?"

I shrugged. "That's entirely up to you. But we'd both like for you to stay, as long as you want. Forever, if that's what you'd like."

… _his daughter…_ She made a face and I tried not to laugh. _…must seem a child to him… nearly three hundred, and me, twenty-six…_

I gave in to my laughter. "No. I've _told_ you: we're frozen as we were when we died. He may have been on this planet for nearly three hundred years, but in his heart, he's twenty-three, just as I am seventeen. You're older than he is!"

She stuck her tongue out at me and I laughed again.

We sat in companionable silence for a while as she thought over my words. I saw her images of the three of us together in various roles. All of us friends, coven members. The three of us as siblings with no parents. And one that made me ache. Herself in Carlisle's arms, and me as their son.

… _he hasn't… he's never said… the look in his eyes, sometimes I think… but he's so careful not to say anything…_

"You haven't been ready for anything more and he knows that. I've said before that you need to tell him of your past."

"He knows."

"Yes, and no. He has an idea of what happened, but until you are able to tell him the whole story…" I hesitated, glancing at her. She was frowning and chewing on her lower lip again. "Esme," I said quietly, "Carlisle is not like your husband. In any way. And he won't blame you for your past, because you _aren't_ to blame."

She stared into my eyes for a few minutes, and I saw myself in her mind. My eyes, golden like Carlisle's, and yet, his were always filled with something more. When he looked into her eyes, the gold burned, and the ferocity scared her.

"That's because of the nature of vampires," I smirked.

"What do you mean?"

"We're _very_ possessive creatures."

Her eyes widened in alarm.

"You know the truth, Esme. About what you can be to each other. I've seen it in your mind. He wants what you do, what I do, too. Being a coven is nice, but it's not what any of us wants. And you know what that is."

"A family," she whispered.

I smiled and nodded.

Over the next several days, Carlisle was back and forth to the boat at night, and the city during the day. He'd visited several real estate agencies and had found a couple of places that looked promising. The day he came back early, I knew even without reading his thoughts that it meant he'd been successful. Esme and I were practically bouncing with excitement as he pulled himself onto the deck.

"Congratulations!" he said to her with a wink at me. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my incredulous laughter.

"You bought an island!" she grinned at him, already knowing the answer.

"Yes." He handed the paperwork to her and she opened it eagerly.

It took her several tries before the words sank in and she gasped, "Isle _Esme?!"_

"Consider it a late birthday present."

"You… you can't be serious!"

"Of course I am." He strode over to the anchor, and began to pull it up, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Come on, Edward, step lively! Raise those sails! Let's go see our new home!"

The island was a beautiful haven, full of flowering trees and colorful birds, and was surrounded by reefs like those we'd explored on our way to Brazil. We discovered waterfalls, and still, spring-fed pools. There were long stretches of beaches with white, powdery sands and a gentle slope down to the deeper waters. Carlisle couldn't have picked a more beautiful location, and Esme was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning as we explored the place.

We chose one of the bays with a long, crescent shaped beach on which to build our home. We spent the night clearing out the place where we planned for the house to go. The beach where we wanted the house to face was not an ideal one for a boat. Finding a deeper bay, we made plans to build a dock and a path that would link the boat with the house.

Esme listened to Carlisle and my discussions for the house we were planning and I saw vivid images in her mind of the building we were contemplating, while another, much larger, _much_ more elegant one began to take shape.

"Esme," I rolled my eyes. "There are only three of us. What on Earth would we need all of that space for?"

Startled, she glared at me. _…keep forgetting you hear everything!_ "We don't. It's just that sometimes it's nice to dream."

Carlisle eyed me, raising his eyebrows. _Care to share?_

I gestured toward her. "Apparently, we have a budding architect on our hands."

"No!" she denied, embarrassed.

"Really?" He encouraged her, "You have an interest in architecture?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulders, shooting me another fiery glare that made me snicker. "If you must know, I took a few drafting courses in college. The house you two are planning sounds nice, but not exactly appropriate for _my_ island." She lifted her chin haughtily.

"Then by all means, design away." His eyes twinkling with the laughter he wouldn't give in to, Carlisle whipped out a clean sheet of paper and offered her the pencil he'd been using.

… _kind of budget they'd have… already spent so much on the boat… not to mention the island!_

"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "Carlisle has been earning a doctor's salary for a long time, and my parents left me… well, quite a lot. He bought you an _island!_ Trust me, whatever you want to build, we can make it happen."

"You're not worried about _money_ , are you?" Carlisle laughed softly. "Esme, until very recently, I haven't had anything or anyone to spend money _on._ It does me no good to hoard something I don't use. Please, design us a home."

Giving in to his irresistible smile _…oh, those eyes!…_ she took the pencil from him and began sketching. We watched avidly as the paper filled with her lines and curves, numbers and small notations, a list of supplies and materials, and all along the side, was a long list of the names of flowers. It was fascinating seeing the image in her mind being translated onto the paper. By the time the sun rose, she had more than enough planned out for me to make a run to the city for supplies.

I stopped first for a quick hunt before seeking out a hardware store, but before I even made it partway through the city, I was distracted. Rio de Janeiro was amazing! The buildings were a wide variety of bright colors, there were many tile mosaics on the walls, covering stairways, and lining the streets. And everywhere were the humans. There were so many of them! The languages were varied and fascinating. I heard mostly Portuguese, but there were languages from many other cultures, as well, along with strange sounding native languages for which I had no name or even reference for understanding – yet.

The beautiful city attracted visitors from all around the world, and I fully understood why. I had so looked forward to exploring the city on my own, and quickly lost myself among the marvels. I wandered for hours before remembering my errand. We were supposed to be building a house!

I grew nervous on my return to the boat. I was used to the dim images I could see in the humans' minds, which were quite different from those I saw in Carlisle and Esme's. However, I kept catching a glimpse of myself in vivid relief. As soon as I looked toward where the image seemed to originate, though, I saw no one. Finally, I backtracked and stood in the same place where my watcher had stood. It was no human, of that I was certain. Though the smell was different from Carlisle's cinnamon and nutmeg and Esme's caramel, it was quite obviously another vampire.

Concerned, I described the encounter to Carlisle as soon as I could get him away from Esme.

"What did he smell like?" he asked.

"Vanilla, sort of. And salt, I think. Copper maybe? I don't know, it was weird."

"I'm sure it was just Rafael. I met with him when I was trying to buy the island and told him about my new coven. He was quite incredulous that I had found, not just one, but _two_ vampires who were willing to live on animals as I did," he smiled at the memory. "I tried again to convince him to give up human hunting, but - " He shrugged.

"He was following me. I didn't like it." My eyes narrowed and I felt a rumble wanting to build in my chest.

"He was probably just curious."

"Then why didn't he come talk to me? Why watch and then run away?"

He pursed his lips and frowned. "Vampires are very territorial. You know this, yes?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Rio is his city and he always makes sure to know who is hunting there, just in case they cause trouble."

"But you told him of us."

"True, but he had no way of knowing who you were since I wasn't with you. If you had been another human hunter, it could have been seen as an act of aggression to approach you. Considering the large human population, he doesn't mind visitors, but to go up to an unknown vampire and announce that this was his city could have resulted in hostilities. Especially since you were apparently aware of him. He was just being cautious. Ignore him if he watches you again. He may choose to speak with you, and he may not."

"Mmm," I grumbled, not liking the idea of being watched, but having no desire for a fight, either. I wasn't interested in his hunting grounds, other than as a source of materials for the house and my entertainment.

I spent several days ferrying supplies to the island during the day – so long as it was cloudy – and at night, we would work on building Esme her house. She had learned about the new methods humans were using to build with concrete and the ways they had developed to make it both more stable and yet flexible. We poured the foundation using the new method of reinforcing the concrete with steel rods. We all got quite messy, especially after we started started flinging handfuls of the mud-like stuff at each other.

We built several large fireplaces out of the flat and rounded stones I had brought for that purpose. We used those same stones to line the edges of the path from the dock to the house, filling in the space between with fine beach sand.

Carlisle had many large glass panes ordered for the wide windows Esme wanted. Since we would not have electricity, she planned on using the natural light of the sun to make our house bright. Not that we needed light to see, but it was nice to enjoy. She was involved with every stage of the plans, and Carlisle and I gladly let her take the reins, using our excessive strength to build the house she had envisioned.

On one of my trips to the city for supplies, I was stopped by a familiar sound. I followed my ears to a large, lovely church. There was a human inside who was playing my human mother's favorite psalm on what sounded like an upright piano. I stood outside, entranced, wanting desperately to go inside, but feeling that it would be wrong. I _was_ a vampire. Surely I would no longer be welcomed in a house of God. Despite what Carlisle said, _I_ knew I was a soulless monster, but the music called to me. Not that I hadn't heard music over the years since my death, but not _that_ song, and not played like _this_. Like I remembered. Like I had once played.

Unable to resist, I reached out slowly, hesitating before I placed a finger on the door, half expecting to be struck down for having the audacity to even touch the building. When nothing happened, I gathered my courage and opened the door. The music swelled out, and I could hear the humans singing along with the instrument. Keeping to the back, I stood and listened to the sounds of my childhood, altered only slightly by the different language which I was still learning to speak. I recognized all of the words of the song, and as the humans sang, their language opened up before me, and I found myself translating automatically. The grammar I'd heard, the images I'd watched and the accompanying words, the days and days I'd spent in the city soaking the language up, all came together in that moment, and I knew I would forever be as fluent in Portuguese as I was in English.

I stayed throughout the service, placing a wad of bills in the collection plate when it was passed around. I figured, if God didn't seem to mind a vampire in his church, surely he would not be above accepting the vampire's money, either. I exited hastily when the service was over, but as soon as the chapel was empty, I snuck back in. And it _felt_ like sneaking. I knew humans were welcome to enter the church proper to pray at any point, but I was no human, and it wasn't praying that I wanted to do.

Creeping toward the front, I was drawn to the instrument so like the one I had played as a boy. Finally standing before it, I reverently placed my hands on the keys, vividly remembering the cool, smooth feel of the ivory. Glancing around, though I knew no human was watching, I sat at the piano and spread my fingers to shape the chords as my mother had taught me. I didn't press down, but closed my eyes, trying to remember her voice, her face. Instead of Elizabeth Masen, I heard Esme's sweet voice. Instead of my human mother's light green eyes, I saw Esme's – but not red or orange as they had been. They were gold, like mine.

With a smile, I pressed lightly on the keys, hearing the sounds I hadn't heard since before I had died: my fingers, bringing music to life. Feeling strangely like weeping, I let my fingers dance as they remembered doing, and the song almost seemed to play itself. I was but the conduit through which the music flowed. Acutely aware of the fragility of the instrument, I touched each key carefully, pressed the pedals down lightly, and the instrument responded to my touch as though we were lovers. The song rang out like it was calling my name, and I played the songs of my childhood to the empty church.

I could have sat at the piano for hours, _days,_ but I heard the pastor coming back toward the church, wondering who could possibly be playing. Swiftly, not wanting to be caught, I darted out of the church before he could see me. I felt like I had rediscovered an old friend. How I had missed making music! Not even bothering with supplies, I sped back to the island to tell Carlisle and Esme about the experience.

Before I could tell them my news, I discovered that they had news of their own to impart. I saw flickering images in their minds of Esme taking Carlisle's hand and placing it against her cheek, no longer flinching away from his touch. Of him cradling her face in his hands. Of her wrapping her arms around his neck. Of them sharing a kiss, and the unbreakable bond that I knew was forming between the two of them. Bursting into the nearly completed house, I found them waiting for me, hand in hand. Carlisle was beaming, and Esme looked shy, but proud. Unable to stop myself, I hurled myself at them, grabbing my parents in a hug that couldn't begin to express my joy.

I grinned at Esme and said, "Welcome to the family, Mom!"


	6. School

**School**

Sliding deeper into my desk, I stifled a sigh. If I were a human, I'd be yawning. Or snoring. Then again, if I were human, I wouldn't be there at all. Twenty-six year olds didn't attend high school, after all. I had understood the first time around. I'd died before I had gotten the chance to graduate from high school, so when Carlisle had suggested that I return to school so that I could get my diploma, I hadn't argued. Now, though, I _had_ my diploma. Being forced to sit though yet another round of these courses was ridiculous.

"Keeping up appearances is important, Edward," he'd said. "The humans need to believe that we are human, and the younger we start in a new place, the longer we can stay there. Would you rather move in two years, or five?"

"You can't spend your entire life at the piano, much though I enjoy your music," Esme had agreed with him, and kissed my cheek.

It was all well and good to speak of blending in, but _they_ had jobs that meant something. _They_ didn't have to sit in the same boring classes day after day, listening to the same spoken words that they'd already heard before. _They_ didn't have to waste a third of their lives in a place they hated. _They_ didn't have to listen to the inane thoughts of high school freshmen. Especially freshman girls with an eye for the new kid.

What was worse than even all of that was the fact that I knew this wasn't the last time. Not even _close._ I was immortal. I would live until I was killed, and there weren't many things capable of killing me. And every five years or so, I would have to move. And each and every time, I would have to start my life all over again. Which meant that each time we moved, I'd be a freshman once more. If it was this bad at twenty-six, I didn't want to imagine how I would feel at fifty. _A hundred._ Hell, Carlisle was three hundred years old, and looked twenty-five, as he would forever. Three hundred years from now, I would still look seventeen. In three hundred years, would I still be a teenager in _high school?!_

I had no problem with spending my entire life in front of my piano – when I wasn't hunting – but the thought of spending my entire immortal life in high school was revolting. And yet, even if I were allowed to do nothing but compose, what good would it ever do anyone? Carlisle and Esme got to listen, and I certainly enjoyed the activity above anything else I'd tried, but I could never play in front of anyone else. I could never have a career as a pianist or composer. It would make me known, and that was forbidden.

I laid my head on my desk and groaned.

"Are you alright, Mr. Anthony?" the teacher asked.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"Then I suggest you pay attention."

Picking my head up off of the desk, I glared at her for a moment before turning my attention to the view out of the window. The day was overcast, as was normal for this time of year, which meant I was free to come and go as I pleased. Only I _wasn't_. I was stuck in this room with these teenagers who were half my age listening to this woman prattle on about love stories while the girls sighed and cast their eyes at me. It was maddening!

"Now, take Romeo and Juliet, for example…"

I couldn't take any more and stood abruptly. "You know what? I don't think I _am_ alright." Grabbing my bag, I stormed from the room, ignoring both her protest and her suggestion that I visit the nurse.

What good would a nurse do me? What was wrong with me wasn't something she could fix. It wasn't something _anyone_ could fix. I was _dead_. My life was unproductive, stagnant, and my future nonexistent. I stashed my bag in my locker before leaving the school. Scanning for anyone who might see me and not finding anyone, I took off at a sprint for home. Romeo could wait. There was a song that was calling me, and despite what Esme said, it was my life to spend how I wanted. And right then, I wanted my piano.

When I neared our home, though, I realized I hadn't taken into account the fact that Carlisle and Esme were both home. Alone. Which meant that they were engaged in an activity that I _really_ didn't want to witness.

"Damn it!"

I kicked at a tree, enjoying the sharp crack that it made as it toppled over. If I were the teen I appeared to be, I could lose myself in my music and ignore my parents, but my telepathy meant that no matter what I did, I'd be able to hear them. I wasn't about to go any closer to my home, and nor was I willing to go back to school. Deciding that I'd indulge in the only other activity that interested me at that moment, I took off into the forest to hunt.

Unsure if having an extra vampire in the house made a difference, or if it was my increasing frustration with high school, I had noticed my thirst was almost as strong lately as it had been my first year. Of course, now I had control over myself and wasn't a danger to the humans, but any bears I found would meet a quick death at my teeth. I'd even settle for a deer or three, despite the fact that I'd just hunted a few days earlier. Continuously swallowing the flowing venom in my mouth, I trotted through the trees, sniffing out my dinner.

Hours later, no longer thirsty, I was perched in a tree, watching the sun rise from behind the mountains. I felt a steady rumble in my chest, and hated knowing that I was acting like a sulky teenager, pouting alone in the forest. While the rest of the world lived their lives, I knew that I was stuck, a teenager for eternity, my future as dead as my body was.

Jumping down from the tree, I made my way back to school. I'd washed in a river, so the dirt and blood were gone from my skin, and though my clothes may not have been the cleanest, neither were they filthy. I fingered the holes the bears had made and wondered if anyone would notice. Shrugging, I decided that I didn't really care, either way.

When the boy who sat at the desk in front of me took his seat, I paid him no attention, despite his intentionally cheerful greeting. It was routine for me to concentrate on trying to block out the minds around me by that time. Though I still heard them, if I tried hard enough, I could relegate their thoughts to mere background noise. What did I care for the thoughts of teenagers? So long as they left me alone, I did the same for them.

I was staring blankly at the back of the boy's head, the song that I wanted to play dancing through my mind when I noticed an odd pattern of color against the pale skin of his neck. Gasping, I realized what I was seeing were fingerprints. The sight knocked my guard down and the thoughts in the room flooded my mind, but there was only one whose images I really saw. They boy's father had gotten rough with him again.

And not just him.

 _Damn it!_ My mouth filled with venom, and I felt a harsh growl building in my chest. Far too often I'd seen Esme's images of her husband and the way he'd treated her. Though those images had stopped surfacing as often in the face of Carlisle's gentle love and devotion, I would never forget what she'd unwillingly shared with me. Watching this boy remember seeing his mother go through the same thing was agonizing to me. How dare that man lay his hands on his wife and son?!

Unable to bear listening to his thoughts, I stood, attracting the attention of the class. I could see myself in all of their eyes. I didn't look like I'd fed that night at all, despite the two bears that I'd caught. My eyes had dark purple smudges under them and were no longer the bright gold they had been just that morning. My lips were pulled back from my teeth in a furious grimace. Hiding my teeth, I placed my hand over my mouth as though I were about to be sick, and hurried from the room, ignoring the teacher, again.

When I threw my bag into my locker, I slammed the door shut, but it wouldn't close. Sighing, I saw that I'd bent the frame, and my fingerprints were clearly visible. Knowing I couldn't leave such evidence, I fixed the door, pinching and smoothing the bent metal back into shape.

"Uh, hey, Edward. Mr. Miller wanted me to see if you were alright."

 _Oh, bloody Hell._ It was him. I leaned against the locker, not looking at the boy. "Go back to class, Zach," I muttered. "I'll be fine."

"You don't _look_ fine."

"I didn't say I _was_ fine. I said I'll _be_ fine. I'm going home. You go back to class."

Before he could say anything else, I hurried away from the boy. For the second time, I made my escape from the school and ran straight into the mountains to hunt once more. I found a wolf pack and launched myself upon them, draining two of them before the others even knew I was there. I couldn't get the image of the boy or his mother out of my mind. It infuriated me that there were men like Esme's ex-husband in the world. It occurred to me that perhaps I could do something about it. I _was_ a vampire, after all, and not necessarily restricted by human laws.

I knew where they lived, and found myself drawn to their small house. No one was home, yet. Peering through the windows, I could see holes in the wall. Scattered on the floor were several empty glass bottles. I sniffed at the edge of a window and could smell the sharp burning scent of alcohol. The prohibition had done nothing to prevent those who wanted to drink the foul stuff from finding someone who could provide it to them. Sneering at the humans' laws, I knew that making alcohol illegal had done nothing but give criminals more power.

I planted myself outside of their house, hiding in the trees. Eventually, the family came home, but though they were all tense and unhappy, the boy stayed occupied with his homework and his father didn't pay him or his mother any attention.

Scoffing at myself after they went to bed, I thought it was a very good thing for everyone involved that the man had been in a better mood that day. What could I have done about it anyway? Sure, I was a vampire, but they couldn't know that. And I didn't kill people, nor hurt them, no matter how angry I might have been.

Thinking that Carlisle and Esme should be at the hospital by that time, I went home, but was surprised when I heard their thoughts as soon as they were in range. They were talking about me, and they were worried. I sighed. I wasn't a child! If I wanted to stay out for a night, that was my business!

Unable to help myself, I slammed the door shut, though I was careful not to break it

"Where have you been?" Esme hurried over to me. Her eyes were wide and worried. When I met her gaze, I saw that mine had returned to a similar shade of healthy gold.

"Hunting," I muttered, turning away from her attempt at mothering me. I knew she wanted to fuss with my hair and exclaim over my torn, dirty clothes, but I wasn't in the mood. So I was a little dirty and my hair tangled. So what? The dirt would wash off and the tangles could be brushed out.

"The school called." Carlisle's voice was carefully steady, but I was sure he disapproved of me ditching.

I grunted in acknowledgment.

"They say you left in the middle of class yesterday and today."

"They're right. I did."

"What happened?"

I sighed and avoided his eyes, but when I spoke, I managed to keep my tone reasonable. "Nothing happened."

"Talk to me, Edward."

"About what?" I regretted the snarl in my voice, but was unable to make myself sound less like a sullen kid.

"Something is going on with you. Tell me - "

Gritting my teeth and trying not to growl at him, I interrupted him. "Nothing is going on, Carlisle. Leave me be." I stalked past him, not pausing at my piano, and went straight to my room. I'd been wearing the same clothes for almost three days, plus I'd hunted twice in them. They were due for a change, and I needed a shower.

… _don't know… says he was hunting but he was gone so long…_

… _running out of the school two days in a row…_

Growling, I paced in my room, hating that I could hear their conversation about me. And they _knew_ that I could! Finally, tired of listening to them worry over me, I went downstairs, trying very hard to seem calm and collected.

Seeing Carlisle watching me, I muttered, "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"When my son went missing from school and didn't come home, I thought it would be a good idea to take a sick day." _My family needed me here. You need to talk to me, son. Please, let me in._ "Tell me what's wrong," he insisted

I pressed my lips together. How could I tell him that I was unhappy? _He_ was happy. He had a loving wife and son, a good job, and the chance to do some good in the world. Even if it was against the rules to make a difference in the world in any way that would attract attention, he could and did make a difference every day in small ways by helping the people that he treated.

And what did _I_ get to do? Sit in a classroom and listen to another ridiculous discussion on Romeo and Juliet of all things. Refusing to answer him, I sat at my piano and closed my eyes.

My piano had been on my mind for days, and it was a relief to finally lay my fingers on the keys again. Losing myself in the music, I let the frustrations of my existence fade away from my awareness. Esme was a happy wife to Carlisle, and her past was not something that I could change. That it was playing out again in another family in the town where we lived, just as I was certain that it was in towns all over the world, was none of my concern. Those humans were none of my concern. The only thing I needed to concern myself with was not making the only two people in the world whom I loved upset and unhappy.

After what felt like only a few minutes, I felt my arm being shaken. Opening my eyes with a gasp, I saw light streaming in through the large windows. When I had sat down, it had been night!

"Edward," Esme's voice was anxious.

"What?!" I snapped. I heard her sharp hiss at my tone and sighed, feeling bad for being rude to her. Purposefully making my voice gentle, I spoke to her again. "What is it, Esme?"

"You're going to be late for school if you don't leave soon."

 _School_ , I groaned to myself. I felt my jaw clenching and unclenching as I poked at the keys, no longer pressing down on them. I wished heartily that I didn't have to go to the place that I hated more with each passing day.

I saw myself in Carlisle's mind as he eyed me while I sat there, unmoving, and he considered whether to confront me again or not. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huge sigh, I stood and strode for the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"School!" I snarled, and took off running.

"You sure you should be here today?" Zach asked as I slid into the seat behind him. "You don't look like you're feeling any better."

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"Yeah, I say that a lot, too. Doesn't always make it true, though."

I heaved yet another sigh, but didn't answer him. He was right. Saying it meant nothing when I was about as far from fine as a creature could get. And feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to help. I had so much more than many people ever would, including the boy who sat in front of me. I had been born to a loving mother. Though Dad had been distant and often angry - and certainly too busy building his law firm to pay much attention to a young wife and son - he'd never been aggressive toward either of us.

Now, I had two loving parents. Esme showered her love upon me, grateful to have a child to dote on at last. But I _wasn't_ a child! Carlisle always treated me with respect, but I was his son, not his equal. When it had been just the two of us, we had been best friends, but now that we were a family, not a coven, things were different.

Yes, I had them, but they had each other. As I had known would happen when Carlisle had first brought Esme into our coven, I was the odd man out. Despite being a family, they had a relationship that did not include me, and seeing the love they had for each other only served to emphasize my own loneliness.

Most of the humans in the school irritated me. They were petty and completely wrapped up in their own little worlds. The silly girls had been met with careful indifference in their attempts at catching my eye, and most of the boys were obnoxious. Surely when I had been a human teen I had not acted like that! The few who _had_ made attempts at friendship had been rudely rejected. The human boy in front of me was one of the few whose mind I could even tolerate, except for when he was thinking about his father. He was about the closest thing to a friend that I had, and yet I rarely spoke to him. What good would it do me to get attached to a friend, when in a few years we would leave, and I would never see him again?

I fully understood why Carlisle had created me. He'd spent two centuries traveling, and had met many vampires. Until he'd created me, though, he'd been essentially alone. He'd lived with the ruling coven in Italy for decades, but he had ever been the different one due to the fact that he refused to drink human blood. None of the others he'd met were even willing to try an animal diet. I didn't understand why. Wolves and bears were delicious, and lion blood was rich and almost as sweet as the honey in my venom. Deer may not have been my favorite, but even with them, there was that moment of pleasure and spreading warmth that drinking their blood brought.

What was the big deal about human blood? Why were they so resistant to try an alternative that didn't make them killers? They'd been human once, too. Had they no respect for the life they'd once lived? All too clearly, I could recall the echo of the taste in Esme's memory, but though it was definitely powerful, lion blood was, too. Admittedly, the scent of a deer was unappealing, whereas the scent from the humans around me was… I felt a shiver convulse my entire frame. I shook my head, tasting the spicy honey in my mouth again. I couldn't be thirsty again already!

Another day of the same routine. Math class. English. Social Studies. History. Lunch, and all of the disgusting smells that went with _that_ hour. Biology, which I could have done a better job of teaching than the human woman who'd been teaching the subject for nearly twenty years. I constantly had to stop myself from correcting her. The only remotely interesting class I took was my foreign language elective, but that was only twice a week, alternated with Social Studies. And then, adding insult to injury: Physical Education. Pretending to exercise and play sports with the humans was the most frustrating part of what was already an infuriating day.

On my first day at the school, Carlisle had come to speak with the Physical Education teacher. Ignoring the snickers of a few of the Neanderthals, I'd had to remind myself that it was important to keep up the human charade. I wouldn't be able to hide my cold skin and excessive strength from them if I were forced to have prolonged physical contact with them. Still, if I had been human, my cheeks would have burned from embarrassment as he explained how my "delicate bones" made it inadvisable for me to play rough sports.

… _kid sure_ looks _sick…_ the coach had thought.

Given my pale skin, the dark smudges under my eyes, and the fact that Carlisle was a doctor, he took my father at his word and allowed me to sit out when wrestling or football were on the agenda. I still had trouble not mangling tools when I used them, and had no desire to mangle any of my classmates – no matter how irritating I found them.

Gently tossing the basketball toward the hoop, I smiled wryly to myself as it went where I had planned for it to go; exactly one foot to the left of the net. Had I wanted to, I could have made the basket every time, but Carlisle had cautioned me about such displays. I flatly refused to participate in any of the other sports, but we thought basketball was marginally safe, since there was supposed to be no contact.

"What're you smilin' about, you freak? You missed!" gloated one of the obnoxious boys I shared the class with. As he ran past me, he bumped into me with enough force that a normal human – especially a delicate one – would have been knocked to the ground. Annoyed with his attitude, I refused to budge, and he bounced off of me, tumbling to the ground.

Unfortunately, the boy's timing combined with his expectation for _me_ to be the one on the ground, meant that his fall put him in the path of one of the other boys who was running down the court. They fell in a pile, and I gasped in shock as my senses were assaulted with an aroma that set my venom flowing. The obnoxious boy had been kicked in the face by his teammate, and his nose was bleeding.

I stared at him, my muscles locked, as I fought against the sudden and unexpected need to taste the red liquid that was flowing, _wasted_ , from the human boy. When he glanced up to shoot me a hate-filled glare, he recoiled, and I was surprised at the expression on my face. Though he, of course, believed me to be human, I knew otherwise, and for the first time, I thought that I _looked_ like a vampire. Carefully controlling my muscles, I turned and strode from the gym, ignoring the call of the teacher and sprinting into the mountains as soon as I was out of the line of sight of any humans.

Going to school every day was almost a form of slow torture. Between listening to the inane thoughts of the children around me, having to listen to the teachers discussing subjects which I knew better than they did, and the enforced idleness of the classes, I was becoming more and more aware of the way the humans smelled to me. Their individual aromas were complex, and each one subtly different from the others. I recalled how Carlisle had told me that I would find my sense of smell to be the most useful when hunting, and knew that I would be able to identify each one of the humans in the school just by their scent.

Each and every one of their scents called to me. They smelled like lions, only much, _much_ stronger. Some had flowery aromas, where others were sharp, tangy, or spicy. Some were more like deer, dusty and faded in comparisson to the rest, but still, there was a power to the scent that no deer ever had. My venom was a steady trickle the entire time I spent at the school. My muscles ached from holding myself still so as not to reach for one.

On top of all of those annoyances and pressures, I had to see into Zach's mind, hear his memories, no matter how hard I tried to tune him out. As the weeks passed, I watched as the bruises came and went on the human boy. Every time I saw a new set, I felt a smoldering rage filling me, and had to stop myself from breaking the desk. Skipping school became a regular occurrence just to get away from his thoughts.

It wasn't my business; I couldn't get involved! Even had I been human, what could I have done about it? I knew their neighbors had notified the police several times, but the man had managed to diffuse the situation, and she hadn't pressed charges. I was an outsider, not a neighbor, nor a member of their family. What could I tell the police that they didn't already know?

The tiny cafeteria didn't have empty tables very often, and I was forced to sit among the humans while they ate. Pretending to eat, I would pick my food apart without actually putting anything in my mouth. Finding our classmates as annoying as I did, Zach would sit beside me; two outcasts not speaking even to each other. He seemed to notice my lack of an appetite, but didn't comment. I hated adding to his pain, but I couldn't take listening to the boy's memories, and ignored him even more fully than I had before.

I was sitting in the class that I shared with the boy, when my mouth filled with a strange, seductive, _powerful_ taste, and I realized my entire body was shaking. What was wrong with me? I heard Zach's soft hiss as he rubbed his fingers across his mouth, and I realized his lip was cut. He was _bleeding_ and tasting his own blood. _Ah, God!_ As though smelling their scent, and worse yet, the blood flow from the occasional cut wasn't bad enough, now I was _tasting_ Zach's blood through his mind.

For what felt like the hundredth time, I stood and bolted from the class, not even bothering with my bag this time. Sprinting into the mountains to hunt, I drank animals until my stomach hurt it was so full, but still I was unsatisfied. My throat ached and burned, and I groaned in frustration and confusion. I couldn't _still_ be thirsty!

The only relief I found from my frustrations was in my music, and I gave myself up to it as often as possible. In class, barely breathing, I had to fight against the growing pull of the humans around me, finding even speaking to be almost painful to my constantly dry, burning throat. I tried to ignore the scents of the teachers and the students by concentrating on whatever composition I was trying to work through on that day. When I went home, I'd hurry through my homework, spending every minute that I wasn't hunting at the piano.

"Edward. Edward!" _Edward!_

I ignored the repeated sound of my name being called, until the song I was playing was abruptly ruined by someone hitting the keys in a jumble of discordant notes.

I found myself on my feet, grappling with Carlisle, growling, "How dare you?!" into his astonished face. I saw myself in his mind, my eyes black, my teeth bared in a feral snarl. Collecting myself, I released him and turned away, breathing heavily.

"What is the _matter_ with you, Edward?" I could tell he was more shocked than angry, but his eyes were wide and worried.

I shook my head, muttering, "Nothing. What did you want?"

"You've been playing non-stop all weekend. I thought you might like to go hunting with me? It looks like you haven't been in a while, and I thought you could use a break."

"Fine," I grumbled. He was wrong, of course. I'd been hunting after school or when he and Esme went to the hospital almost every day. That didn't stop me from being thirsty. Again. Still. _Always_.

We found and drank a herd of deer, topping them off with a few wolves who'd been hunting them as well. Finally full, we sat together as we had done in years past, two dead creatures on a mountainside, watching the living world that surrounded, but didn't include us.

I tried to ignore his thoughts, but he was making clear pictures of me. I saw myself standing on the deck of our boat, grinning; standing beside him with excitement in my eyes as we waited for Esme to join us by the priest whom we had brought to our island; the way I used to laugh with him when we ran together, hunting; the look on my face the day he'd managed to surprise me with my very own piano.

Then I saw him picture me as I'd been lately: angry. I was always angry. I rarely met his eyes, and when I did, they were dark, if not black. I saw the way I had looked as I had nearly attacked him, only a few hours earlier.

"Tell me what I can do, Edward."

I forced my voice to remain even and said, "About what?"

"To help you. I can't say that I know what's bothering you, but I do know that something is."

"I'm fine," I muttered, my standard response to anyone questioning me lately.

"You're not."

I picked up a rock and closed my fist around it. When I opened my hand, the rock had been ground into dust, and I watched as the light wind blew it slowly away from me.

"Again with the silence."

"What would you have me say?"

He sighed, and I heard his frustration with me in the sound. "I would have you say what is troubling you. I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need."

What did I need? I didn't really know. A life? A purpose? A future? To not know that my existence would consist of little more than an eternity of hunting and high school? None of those confessions would do either of us any good. He couldn't provide me with anything more than he already did, and admitting to my discontent would only hurt him.

"I'm fine. There's nothing that I need."

"Edward," he groaned my name in exasperation. "Look at yourself!" He grabbed my face and forced me to meet his eyes. "You've just hunted, drunk twice as much as I did, and _still_ your eyes are black! You're not fine, and we both know it. Be honest with me, now."

I twisted my head out of his grasp, growling, "I can't help my eye color."

"I know you can't. That's not what I mean. You can't control it, but it is indicative." He studied me, and I saw him picturing his early days alone, struggling to deny his nature when everything inside of him was telling him to drink the humans who would put out the raging fire within him.

I heard a low growl in my chest, but refused to answer him.

"I know how difficult our lifestyle can be. I struggled alone for centuries. But you don't have to go through whatever this is alone. You have me, and you have Esme. But we can't do you any good if you keep everything locked inside that head of yours."

"Drop it, Carlisle. There's nothing to say."

"Are you having trouble resisting the humans? Is that why you've been leaving school?"

"No," I sighed. Carlisle was far too perceptive. But, though my thirst was a constant fire, I was capable of fighting it, and the children in the school weren't in danger from me.

He paused, trying to hide his thoughts from me, and I could tell that he was reluctant to voice his next question. Finally, the thought escaped his control. … _thinking of leaving us?_

The question surprised me. "No," I answered truthfully. He was my father, and Esme my mother. If I was alone _with_ them, I'd be even more alone without.

"Edward, please talk to me," he whispered. "We're worried about you."

I stood up, began to walk back to our house. "Well, stop. There's nothing for you to worry about. I'm fine! The only thing bothering me right now is _you!_ Just… leave me be," I snarled. My walk turned into a sprint, but not before I felt his shocked hurt.

When I got home, I heard Esme singing in the kitchen. The smell of her cooking assaulted me before I even entered the house. I found myself growling in frustration. Now I couldn't even go into my own house! Well, I _could_ if I had wanted to, but the smell of human food cooking was revolting. I understood the pleasure that bringing homemade food to the patients and staff of the small hospital brought to her, but surely there was a way that didn't make our home stink! How could she stand it? I tried not to begrudge her the niche she had made for herself as Carlisle's wife and partner. Yet it only served to illustrate to me how they _had_ lives, where I was simply existing.

And the next day was a Monday, and I'd have to go back to school again. Groaning, I turned away from the house and wandered aimlessly through the small town until the sun rose.


	7. Right and Wrong

**Right and Wrong**

Two weeks later, I'd avoided returning to either school or home. I was so conflicted as to what I should do. I hated the way I was existing, but couldn't see any other way of living – if that was what I could even call it.

Supposing I _did_ move away, as Carlisle had been afraid that I was considering doing. Where could I go? Maybe I could have figured out how to fake my own records, but where would that have left me? Living alone in an apartment and working a meaningless job? What would be the point in _that?_ It wasn't as though I would be able to stay for more than a few years before moving on, just as we were forced to do now. I could travel the world, but as Carlisle had experienced, traveling was not nearly as fun alone as it was with the people you loved.

No. Where I was was where I would stay: a teenager in high school for eternity. Humans often wished they could stay young forever. If God were watching me now, he was surely having a good laugh. Eternal youth - what a gift!

What a joke.

Finding myself standing outside of Zach's house yet again, I listened to the dreams of the sleeping family. Why did I keep coming here? I knew there was nothing I could do for him. Yet he was the only human at the school that I even bothered myself with. He was a smart kid, with a lot of potential, and despite his home life, he was a _good_ kid. I'd seen other boys living with violence who ended up perpetuating it. From his memories, I knew that many of Zach's bruises came from his attempts to protect his mother. He'd often antagonized his father on purpose in order to accept the blows that had been meant for her.

The human boy seemed determined to be the man's opposite, despite his father, or perhaps because of him, and I couldn't help but to admire him. In a way, I even envied him. It wouldn't be too many more years until he'd be out of his parent's house and out from under his father's thumb.

A sudden chill ran down my spine. Without her son there, what would happen to the mother? Vividly, Esme's memories played out in my mind, mixing with those of the human boy until I almost couldn't separate the two. My mouth filled with venom and I felt myself trembling with the overwhelming desire to kill the man. I'd never wanted to end a human's life before, and I could practically _taste_ the man's blood as the venom ran down my throat. Forcing myself to turn away from the house, I ran home.

Carlisle opened the door for me as I neared the house. He'd heard my pounding footsteps as I ran up the long path to our door. I felt the relief in his mind at seeing me again, but before he could say anything, I brushed past him and headed for the kitchen. I saw myself in his mind, my expression wild and fierce, and was aware of his astonishment when I pulled Esme into my arms.

 _Edward! You're shaking!_ She stroked the back of my head as I buried my face in her caramel scented hair.

"What's wrong?!" she whispered.

I couldn't explain, and just shook my head. "I love you, Mom," I whispered to her.

I heard her gasp and felt her arms tighten around me. I so rarely called her that, and usually only in teasing. Unable to speak, she thought fiercely to me, _I love you, too!_

Eventually, I pulled away from her and turned to my father. "Please forgive my rudeness, Carlisle."

I could see the curiosity in his eyes, but rather than question me, he simply accepted my apology, grateful that I wasn't snarling for once. "Of course."

Nodding, I went to my room to prepare for school. I wasn't sure how to help him, but I knew I wanted to help the human boy _and_ his mother. When I got to our shared class, I greeted him with a smile, and felt his shock at seeing the expression on my face.

"You've been gone for weeks."

"I wasn't well," I explained with a shrug.

"Looks like you're feeling better, now, though," he observed. _…think I've ever seen him_ smile _before…_

I realized with a start that he was probably right. I'd been so surly lately, I doubted I'd truly smiled once since our arrival into the small town. Certainly not since learning I'd have to repeat high school again.

Leaning back in my seat, I considered the options. If the boy left his mother to live alone in the house with his father, I had little doubt that she'd be dead before for long. I wondered if the boy would blame himself for leaving if that happened. I knew that if something had happened to _my_ mother, I would have felt responsible.

If I were the seventeen year old I appeared to be, I likely could have helped the boy escape, but not his mother. However, I _wasn't_ a human teen and I had resources that the average human didn't. I felt a determination growing within me. No one had been able to save Esme from her husband. After years of living with his cruelty, of being told she must have been doing something wrong to have made him so angry, of being blamed, and blaming herself, she'd finally left. It had taken her pregnancy to give her the courage.

I'd seen the image in her mind of the day she'd decided to leave. Though most of her human memories had blurred, this memory remained a vivid one. She'd stared into the bathroom mirror, seeing the spreading bruise, and had felt the child within her move for the first time.

I had also seen Carlisle's memory of the day she'd confessed her past to him.

 _"I felt the babe move,"_ she had told him, _"and could almost see his angelic face. The future I was headed for was so clear to me. Charles had sworn to love me, but what he felt wasn't love."_ She'd shaken her head and placed a hand against Carlisle's cheek. He'd known his face held a look of horror as he pictured the human man harming the woman who was soon to be his mate.

"' _What was to stop him from treating our child the way he treated me?' I asked myself. I could see that perfect child's face bruised the way mine so often was and I fell to the floor. I didn't know what I would do, but I knew what I_ wouldn't. _I wouldn't stay and see my imagined future made into a reality. I knew there had to be places where a single mother could find work, a place to stay. I raided our stash of money, emptied every penny from the emergency funds, and left that very day."_

Esme's solution had been to take her unborn child and run before her husband could hurt the babe within her. She'd been scared, but determined to protect her child. There had been an excitement within her, too. To be _free_. Free from her judging family, from her life of hiding, and especially from her husband. I knew that, had the babe been healthy, she would at that very moment have been waiting for her son to come home from his school. Such was not to be Esme's fate. Her son had died only a few days after his birth, and she had tried to follow him – which was how she'd come to be in the morgue where Carlisle found her.

Esme's courage was my inspiration. Zach was no infant. He already wore the evidence of his father's fists. There had been no one to save Esme, but there _was_ someone who could save Zach and his mother. Me. I didn't even have to kill the man to do it, though I desperately wanted to. I had money. Lots of it. Dad's law firm had been successful, and I'd inherited everything. There was more than enough available for me to provide the two of them with a good start in a new place.

Carlisle had forged our documentation, giving us fake names and histories, and I saw no reason why he shouldn't be able to forge some for them, too. Zach was resourceful and smart; I knew that he and his mother would be able to make their way in a new city. He could go to a new school and she could get a job, floating as long as necessary on the money I could provide to them until they could support themselves.

For the first time since my initial return to school years earlier, I had a plan. I had a _purpose_. When Esme left to go grocery shopping early that next morning, I immediately sought Carlisle out in his study.

He eyed me, sensing a change in me, but unable to define it. "What's on your mind, Edward?"

I walked up to him with a hopeful smile. "If I asked you to help me with something, would you?"

"Of course. I've told you before: whatever you need, just ask."

"There's a boy in my class," I started, and saw his eyes instantly turn from curious to wary. _Nervous_. "I want to help him," I said, firmly.

"In what way?"

"I want to take him and his mother away from his father. I want to provide them with documents like you make for us…" I trailed off, seeing him shaking his head as I spoke. "Why not?" I demanded.

"Edward, it's forbidden."

I scoffed. "No one would know."

"We aren't allowed to change the course of human lives in any way that could draw attention to us."

"You change the course of human lives every day!"

"As a doctor."

"I fail to see the difference," I scowled at him.

"The difference is that being a doctor is my role. It's my human guise, and I don't do anything that any human could not."

"People can help each other."

Ignoring the increasing rudeness of my tone, he kept his voice steady, his tone reasonable. "How would you explain where the forged documents would come from? Exposing the fact that we forge our names and records exposes us, and therefore our world."

"So we make up something. Faked records don't exactly scream 'vampires'."

"What about your knowledge that they need help at all?"

Trying not to snarl at him I spoke through gritted teeth. "I _see_ his bruises, Carlisle."

His eyes turned sad, and his mouth twisted down. "I've seen abuse victims many times over the years. Do you think I don't wish I could pluck them from their situations and give them new lives? Especially with Esme's past?"

Losing my patience, I shouted at him, "Well maybe you should! Sending them back to continue being hurt or killed makes you practically an accessory to murder."

His eyes widened in shock. "Stop. Right now."

I turned away from him, angry.

He sighed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Listen to me, Edward. I have tried what you are suggesting in the past. This boy's family is – unfortunately – neither the first nor the last to live with violence. There was a time when I tried everything in my power to help, short of stealing them away from the men in their lives, against their wishes."

"No woman can _wish_ to remain with a man like that," I spat.

"I know that you can read minds, Edward, but even so, you cannot know everything. His mother must have some reason for staying with her husband."

"Well, what happened when you did try to help? Why is it that you won't allow me to do the same now?"

"I tried giving the women money – both anonymously and in person – but throwing money at a problem will not make it go away. I spoke plainly with the women, offering to help hide them, their children, even their other family members."

"And they wouldn't go?"

He shook his head, slowly. "A couple of women took me up on the offer. I found out later that they went back to their men."

I stared at him, appalled.

"The psychological effects of abuse and the reasons behind it are not easily understood, nor clearly defined. The hold the men have on them is not simply physical, it is emotional and mental, too. I have come to believe that they simply cannot see that it is possible to leave."

"Esme left Charles," I pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed. "And you cannot know what kind of strength that decision has given her. Changing people's lives for them cheats them out of the chance to grow, to change themselves. God sets us on our paths for reasons of His own, and none of us can know why. The boy's mother must conquer her own demons, whatever form they take. Should the day come when she decides to leave him, it will be a great victory for her."

Scowling, I crossed my arms and turned away from him again, trying to find a new argument that would convince him, even though I knew it was futile.

"Now, I do still try to help my patients, but only in the way that a doctor is _allowed_ to help. Guidance and counselling, names and numbers of places where they can get help."

I scoffed. "They can pull all of that out of a telephone directory."

"Yes. And therefore it requires no explanation on my part and does not endanger our family. What I am _not_ allowed to do – either as a doctor or as a vampire – is to remove someone from their situation. We can't just take people from their lives, even for the best of reasons. I approve of your desire to help this boy, but this is not the way." Seeing my unhappy expression, he sighed. "If the boy has asked for your help, I would consider offering him assistance of some kind, but I'm guessing you haven't even talked to him about this at all. Have you?"

Grinding my teeth, I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, Edward. But if he means that much to you, the best thing that you can do is to be his friend. Give him someone to talk to."

"Wonderful. So I get to spend the next four years watching my new friend live through what I've seen Esme remember? Assuming he even survives that long?"

"Is that what this is about? Esme?"

I turned back to him, feeling my eyebrows drawing together and my mouth turning down. "No. And yes. You met her when she was sixteen, Carlisle. I'd seen your memories of her even before I knew who she was. I know what you saw in her then, just as I know why you love her now. Wouldn't it have been better for you to have found a way to be with her then? Before she got married? When she had never felt the man who was supposed to be her protector, _her husband_ , striking her in anger? To see his hand-prints on her skin?" I found myself spitting the words at him in my fury.

He paled, and his lips pressed together in a hard, angry line. "You would have had me take a sixteen year old girl away from her family so that when she was old enough to be my mate, I could change her into a vampire?"

I watched him for a minute, considering his words before looking away and shaking my head. "No."

"Of course I regret what happened to her," he said quietly. "But I had no way of knowing that would be her future. Neither can you know what the future holds for this friend of yours. Leaving him with his family is going to be hard for you, I'm sure, but taking him away from his life could take away the good from his future, too."

Scowling, I had a hard time imagining any good coming from staying in such a situation, for him or his mother. "Fine," I snapped, and stalked out of the room.

"Where are you going?" he called, concerned that I was going to defy his instructions.

"School! I'd like to see if my _friend_ is still alive," I snarled.

When I neared school, I reached for the boy's mind, and found him in his class, rubbing a new sore spot on his jaw.

_Oh, damn that man!_

Carlisle was right, but he was also _wrong!_ It was wrong to leave him there, especially when I had the means to do something about it. Children should be protected, and though I would never be a father myself, I _was_ a son. If it was this hard for me to watch, how much harder must it be for him to live through? Carlisle didn't understand. He hadn't heard it, seen it, _felt it!_

Fine, then. If Carlisle wouldn't help me, I would have to take matters into my own hands. I couldn't bear the thought of another day of school, and took off into the mountains, once again. I hunted carefully, making sure not to damage or mess my clothes. If I went home, he would know I was planning something.

The bear didn't help my anger, or my thirst, and I found myself thinking once more of Zach's father. The second the man's face entered my thoughts, my mouth flooded with venom, my muscles started to quiver with desire, and I understood at last that it was not animal blood which I had been craving.

My body had once been human, and it still needed human blood.

The reason I was thirsty constantly was because I wasn't drinking what my body wanted, what it _needed._ I was a vampire, and we weren't made to live on the blood of animals. There was a reason why Carlisle had never found another like himself before he made me. The way we were living was _unnatural_.

I had told Carlisle years before that I didn't want to be a killer, but that had been before I had really understood what I was. Not just that I was a vampire, but that I was a vampire who could read minds. I didn't have to kill an innocent person to satisfy my craving, my growing thirst. Zach's father was far from innocent, and I had a rather personal reason for wanting him dead.

If I couldn't save Zach by taking him away from his father in a way that a human would have been capable of doing, then I would just have to take his father from _him_ in the way of a vampire.

I couldn't be seen, either by Zach or his mother. It would get Carlisle and Esme in trouble, and I wasn't willing to do that. Deciding I'd wait until they fell asleep that night, I could use the cover of darkness along with my vampire speed and strength to slip into their house and steal the father away. They would wake to find their troubles _gone,_ and I would feast on the blood of the man I'd been longing to kill. I knew how to hide the bodies of my prey. The man would never be found, and no one would ever know that I'd had anything to do with it.

I felt my lips curving into a fierce smile and climbed into a tree to wait for the sun to set.


	8. Leaving

**Leaving**

As twilight descended, I crept toward their house to wait for them to fall asleep. When I got close enough to hear him, I was shocked and infuriated to find Carlisle waiting for me. I walked straight up to where he waited among the trees, trembling with fury at his interference. His eyes were hard, his mouth tight, and his forehead creased into a worried furrow.

"You didn't go to school again today, despite the fact that you told me you were, so I followed your scent," he explained without preamble. "You've been coming here a lot, and I can only assume this is the home of your friend."

"So what if it is? There aren't laws – either human or vampire – saying I can't visit the home of a friend."

"A visit would imply their knowledge of your presence."

I crossed my arms and scowled at him. It was all I could do not to attack him. I could hear the heart beats of the humans in the house. I was _thirsty_ and he was in my way.

"Go home, Edward," he said, firmly.

"Why? So that I can pretend to be a human in school again tomorrow?"

"So that you don't do something that you will regret!" His wide, golden eyes were fixed on my furious expression. "I may not be a mind reader, Edward, but I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking."

"And what would that be?"

"You're planning on kidnapping that boy."

I scoffed. "Nice try."

"The mother, then. Or both of them, as you were asking me to help you do."

"Leave, Carlisle. Go to work. Play human with Esme. I'll be home soon."

 _"'Play human'?"_ he stared at me in astonishment.

"Yes, _play_. We aren't human, though you do a very good job of fooling them."

"How would you rather we live? The humans can't know of us. You know that. Working among them allows us to live among them. Would you prefer that we live in the woods like the animals that we hunt?"

"Tell me, Carlisle: why do you work in a _hospital?_ Why did you spend two centuries building up a resistance to human blood?" The word brought a fresh flow of honey into my mouth, and an intensification of the fire in my throat.

"You know the answer to that question."

"Was it, perhaps, so that you could help people?"

He nodded once, firmly.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might like help people, too? To do something useful with my existence?"

Pointing furiously at the house, he snapped at me, "Kidnapping these people is _not_ useful!"

"And neither is wasting my time in _high school!"_ I yelled back.

"Is _that_ what this is about?" He shook his head. "Edward, if you don't want to attend school this badly we'll move tomorrow. We'll find a new place to live, and you can - " He paused, uncertain of what to suggest.

"I can what? Pretend to be a slightly older teen so that we move sooner? Hold down a night job, maybe?" I growled, practically spitting the words and my venom at him.

Swallowing his anger, he made his voice gentle. "What is it that you would like to do, then?"

"What I would _like_ , is for my existence to mean something. When you changed me, Carlisle, what did you envision for me?"

"I hoped that I would find a companion, someone with whom I could share eternity."

"And you have. Her name is Esme."

His eyes widened. "No. That's not the same. She is my mate, yes, but you are my best friend, my brother, my _son."_

I pressed my lips together. Softly, I repeated his words to him. "You hoped that you would find a companion. Someone _you_ could share eternity with. But what did you think eternity would mean for me? I'm _seventeen,_ Carlisle. I may have eternity to spend, but I have no future."

He shook his head and sighed. "Edward, you are so young – "

"That's my point."

He glared at me. "Let me finish!"

I crossed my arms again and waited, sighing.

"You are young to this life. When you are my age, you will still have barely begun to live. There is an entire world to explore. We have an eternity to do with as we please – within certain limits. You say that you want your existence to mean something? Well, let's find it. There is more to this world than high school, hunting, and music."

" _That_ is also my point."

"Perhaps, but I get the feeling that you are missing mine."

I sneered at him. "Explain it to me, then."

"Edward, you have so much potential. You have only begun to scratch the surface of what you can do. I became a doctor because I was called to it. I can't tell you what to do with your life. It is up to you to live it, and to find your purpose. But I _can_ help you along the way. You need to stop holding everything in, though. If you're not happy, then change something. Find something that will make you happy. High school obviously isn't it - "

I scoffed in furious agreement.

" - but that doesn't mean we won't find a new passion for you in the next town."

"Or the one after that? Or the one after _that?"_

"That," he said with a rueful smile, "is _my_ point. We'll keep looking until you find what you're searching for."

My jaw was clenching and unclenching. He still didn't understand. I could spend an eternity looking for a purpose, but I doubted I would find anything I could officially do. I would forever be seventeen, and there was little that a teenager could do to make the world a better place. Especially not one who had to keep his existence hidden.

I felt resentment flare inside of me toward my creator like I'd never felt before. I could hear the thoughts of the humans inside the house, and my venom was a nonstop flood in my mouth. I'd already found what I was looking for, and he was practically within my reach.

"Come on, Edward. Come home with me. We'll tell Esme that we're leaving as soon as we can get the house packed. Figure out where you'd like to move next, and we'll go there, wherever it is. But leave these people alone. Their lives are theirs to live."

The human man was drinking again, and angry. Seeing the anger in his mind only enhanced my own. At the moment, though, he was reading his paper, and leaving his wife and son alone while she cooked and Zach worked on his homework. Knowing that the human man would have to wait until Carlisle wasn't there to stop me, I turned and headed home, feeling Carlisle's relief in his mind as I did so.

When we got to the house, I stormed past Esme, avoiding her eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was cause my own mother any pain, but my anger was too strong at that point to be polite.

We were moving.

Lovely.

I could pick where we would move next, he'd said.

Fantastic.

I knew that he was doing this deliberately to take me from the situation in which I had found myself. This was why it was futile to form friendships with humans! I'd grown far too attached and interested in their lives, and now we had to move before I acted in a way that endangered our anonymity.

It didn't really matter to me where we moved next, because Zach's situation wasn't unique. The only thing that had made him unique was that he happened to be near enough to me that I had noticed his situation. That there was someone who could do something to change it – but was prevented from doing so. That there was someone outside of human laws with the power to make his life better – but didn't.

"Edward?" Esme called from the other side of my closed bedroom door while I slowly packed my books.

"Come in," I muttered.

She eyed me warily when she stepped through. I saw my expression in her mind, my face angry and unhappy. She leaned against the closed door, trying to understand what was going on with our small family. We'd all been so happy such a short time ago, and now it seemed to her that everyone was angry with everyone else.

Finally speaking in a whisper, she said, "Carlisle's gone to give his resignation at the hospital."

"Wonderful," I muttered.

"Do you want to talk?"

I shook my head, still avoiding her gaze.

"Carlisle told me of your friend."

"He's not my friend," I denied, shaking my head, again. "He's some human boy who happened to share a class with me."

"He would be lucky to call you a friend, I think."

"Why? We're leaving tomorrow."

"If I had had a friend like you - even for a short time - I can't help but to think how much better my life would have been while I was lucky enough to have you." _I know how lucky I am to have you now…_

My eyes flashed briefly to her face, and I took in the sorrow in her expression before looking away again. "And would you have felt so lucky when they abandoned you with no explanation?"

"You could see him again, if you like. Give him a reason, if you think it would help."

I sighed. "We really weren't friends, Esme. I barely spoke to him."

She left the door to stand in front of me, her eyes wide and worried as she tried to catch my own. "Then why does he mean so much to you?"

I thought for a moment of how to explain it to her. "Do you understand how my gift works?"

I saw a look of confusion cross her face and she cocked her head at me. "Of course. You read minds. You hear people's thoughts."

"It's more than that," I disagreed. I met her eyes, seeing the beautiful gold that matched Carlisle's, while in her mind, I saw the deep black color my own. "I see whatever is in their minds at that moment. Anything passing through a person's thoughts is clear to me. If they are thinking it, I can read it. Whether it's happening right now, or if the person is remembering it, or even imagining it. Sights and sounds are the easiest to pick up." I laughed softly. "Or rather, the hardest to keep out, actually. And, when they're strong enough, or when I concentrate, I can also catch tastes and smells."

"Sight, sound, taste, smell… You sense what a person is sensing."

"It's not the same, or as strong, as experiencing it for myself, but yes, essentially."

"You only mentioned four senses."

I didn't want to answer her.

"You didn't just see and hear his memories; you _felt_ them," she whispered.

I reached out to lay my hand on her cheek. "No, Esme," I said gently.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and I saw her eyes darken slightly. "You felt _mine!"_

 _"No,"_ I insisted.

"Oh, God, Edward. I'm so sorry." Her eyes were wide with horror, and I thought that, if she were human, they would have filled with tears.

"No! Don't you dare apologize for what he did to you. That wasn't your fault any more than this is!"

"But every time I thought of him – "

"Please, don't worry about it," I begged her. "Of course you thought of him. How could you not? And anyway, you don't so much anymore. And, as I said, it's not the same…" I hesitated, but was unable to stop myself from explaining further. "But then, I saw the same thing playing out with this family…"

"And you wanted to stop it," she deduced.

"Yes!" I hissed. "The police do _nothing!_ Since she won't press charges, the humans' laws prevent them from acting, but ours do _not."_

She eyed me for a moment, taking in my expression, my eye color. "And what would you have done about it?" Her voice was hard, angry.

I clenched my teeth together, and growled, "I'm a vampire, Esme. What do you think I would have done?"

"You can't! No, Edward, no!"

"If someone had killed Charles before you left him, would you have mourned him?"

She turned away from me, trembling. I hated knowing that I was bringing up those memories, but she had come to me, and she had asked. "No," she whispered, finally. "But neither would I have wanted _you_ to become a killer to make that happen."

"Even if it had saved your life?"

"I'm not dead!" She turned back to me with a worried frown. "My life is different now; _I_ am different. But Carlisle saved me _before_ I could die! I know what you believe, Edward, but I don't understand it. How can you not see that we are alive? Don't you know how happy I am now? Carlisle brought me to life, and you have made that life mean something. You and he have given me everything I have ever wanted and more."

"You're happy, now, yes. But Zach and his mother are not!"

"You have never taken a human's life, Edward. Promise me you won't start now."

The memory of the humans _she_ had killed flashed through her thoughts, and my mind was abruptly filled with her memory of their taste. I swallowed the flood of venom that filled my mouth, but couldn't answer her.

She shook her head, furiously. Grabbing my arms, she stood on her toes to look me directly in my eyes. _"Promise me!"_

Catching his thoughts, I muttered, "Carlisle's home."

"You haven't answered me," she insisted.

"I _want_ to kill him!" I admitted, feeling my hands clench into fists.

 _"No._ I forbid it! You leave that human man alone!"

"And if he kills her? Or the boy?"

 _"You_ are the one I'm worried about right now. You don't know what it will do to you! No matter how richly he may deserve it, his death will cost you too much to be worth saving their lives."

Staring into her golden eyes, I saw the love she felt for me, and her fear at what I proposed.

"Promise me that you will not kill that man," she repeated.

Sighing, I pressed my lips together and nodded in defeat. "I promise."

She studied my eyes for another moment before releasing me. "Carlisle is right; it's time to move. Finish packing your room. We'll leave as soon as you're ready." She turned away from me, and hurried to greet her mate.

As soon as she left my room, I sat on my couch and ground my teeth in frustration. I had so looked forward to killing the man! I wouldn't go back on my word to her, though. Was there any way now to help the family? Once we left, I would never see them again, never know their fate. Even though, I _knew_ their fate already!

I was distracted from my silent fuming by Carlisle's anxious thoughts. He was trying hard to _not_ think of something – not the easiest thing to do. I saw his face in Esme's mind as he whirled around his study, packing his books and pictures in a frenzy.

_"What is it, Carlisle?"_

_"Nothing! Go finish packing."_

_"Did something happen at the hosp - "_

_"Shh! No! I don't want to talk about it – don't ask me! Just,_ please _, Esme. Let us leave, quickly!"_

Without being aware I'd moved, I was standing in his doorway, staring at him.

"You're hiding something," I accused.

"It's not important. You need to finish packing, now."

"Tell me," I demanded.

He concentrated on what he was packing, deliberately blocking me. Furious, I watched him closely, intent on catching any hint of what he was hiding. Fighting me, he vividly imagined the picture in his hands. As he wrapped each one in preparation of our move, he thought only of the image on the canvas. I narrowed my eyes at him. I hadn't realized he'd gotten this good at blocking me. Then again, I'd never tried to pry into his thoughts before.

I tried prompting him. "Whatever it is, it happened between when you left here, and your return."

He shook his head.

"You went to the hospital to give your resignation."

He pressed his lips tight together.

"So something happened there, didn't it?"

"Nothing happened," he said through gritted teeth.

"It's something you don't want me to know, otherwise you wouldn't bother trying so hard to not _let me see."_

Esme's eyes were wide, and going back and forth between us.

"And I can only think of one thing that you would bother trying to hide from me right now."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't, Edward. Please."

"Was it Zach? Or was it his mother?"

Esme gasped and put her hands over her mouth.

"It's not important, now." He met my eyes, his mouth tight, his mind firmly thinking only of my face, of reading my expression.

"Just answer one question for me, then."

He shook his head. "Go pack," he said, firmly.

"Did he kill them?" I insisted.

 _No._ The image flashed through his unwilling mind as he thought the answer and I gasped, stumbling backwards in horror.

"Damn it, Carlisle!" I yelled. "You shouldn't have interfered! Why did you have to stop me?!"

"Listen to me." Dropping the picture onto his desk, he zipped over to grab my shoulders and shook me lightly, forcing me to meet his eyes. The images he'd tried to block from me were now clear and vivid in his mind. "They're _fine."_

"They're not!" I choked around my venom.

"They _will_ be!"

"I'm going to kill him," I snarled, not caring that I had just promised Esme that I would not.

Realizing I meant that quite literally, Carlisle gasped, releasing me and stepping back. "I can't believe you would even think that," he whispered, furiously. "And anyway, that's not possible anymore."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Carlisle pressed his lips together and avoided my gaze. "The boy already did."

Stunned speechless, I stared at him with my mouth hanging open.

"The man was drunk - "

"Like that was anything new!" I snapped.

His eyes flashed back to my face. "The prohibition does little to stop those who are determined to drink from doing so, it's true. As a drug, it is milder than many, but a man who is already prone to violence often becomes even more so under its influence."

"That's no excuse!"

"No, it's not. But this time he went farther than usual. If the boy hadn't stepped in, it's likely that the mother would have died, instead, or at least been injured beyond what she already was."

"All the more reason why you should have stayed out of it! Instead, now they're alive, but his life is ruined. Zach was a _good_ kid! I could have helped him make something of his life if you had let me. Now he's a murderer at fourteen!"

"No, Edward. There are no charges being filed against him. It was an act of self defense, and even the humans recognize that."

"Still, it should never have been allowed to get this far! Why didn't you let me kill him when I had the chance?"

His eyes widened. _"That_ was your plan? Not kidnapping, but _murder?!"_

"He deserved it," I snarled.

"Nobody deserves to die," he said quietly, his fury all the more evident in his soft tone.

"Nobody deserves to be beaten, either!"

"That may be, but it is not up to you or me to decide who lives and who dies."

"Don't start preaching to me about God, now, Carlisle."

"Fine. But I think it's important for you to realize that the path you were heading for was not a healthy one. Whether in anger, vengeance, or callous feeding, becoming a murderer would have damaged you."

"Nice. You do realize Esme is standing right there?" I glanced over his shoulder to where my mother still stood with her hands over her mouth.

"Esme is no murderer!"

"Tell that to the people she killed."

"You stop this right now, Edward," she hissed at me.

His expression livid, Carlisle walked over to his mate and took her in his arms. "Esme's accidents were _accidents_ , and not her fault. How dare you for implying otherwise."

"They still met death at her teeth. At least _my_ kill would have rid the world of a monster."

"By turning yourself into one?!"

I snarled and crouched, baring my teeth at him. My muscles were coiled and trembling with the need to spring at him.

"Don't, Edward." His eyes locked on mine, and I saw the sorrow in them. "I know you're angry and upset, but you don't truly want to attack me. That is not who you are."

Esme pushed herself away from Carlisle's arms and walked over to stand directly in front of me, placing herself between us. She drew herself up to her full height, and looked into my black eyes.

"You are no killer, my son," she said, gently. "I know that you're in pain right now, but their pain is over, as is my own. They will heal, as I have done. Let it go."

I studied her calm eyes, saw the love in them that she felt for me, and felt my lips twist. She reached for me, and I entered her embrace gratefully. We held each other tight for several long minutes. And as we did, she was unable to stop the memory of her ex-husband from entering her mind. The image Carlisle had conjured of Zach's mother in the hospital was replaced by memories of herself there instead. She was fighting it, I could tell, trying to hide it as Carlisle had done, but she was younger even than I was, and her mind was not as disciplined as his.

I pulled away from her, not letting her see that I had seen. She searched my face, but my expression was calm now, under control. I gave her a small, crooked smile and placed a kiss on her cheek. Turning to Carlisle, I spoke evenly. "Carlisle, I should not have spoken to you like that. Forgive me, please."

 _Oh, my son, of course I do._ "Will you forgive me, as well?"

"Of course," I nodded.

"Go finish packing," he said.

I nodded again, but instead of heading for my room, I headed for the front door. As I reached for the knob, I felt his hand on my arm.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice alarmed.

"Hunting," I replied with a fierce growl in my voice. I looked back to meet his wary eyes. "Don't worry, Carlisle. I haven't forgotten what you have taught me. I will only hunt animals."

"Well, hurry back to us; it's time to leave, now."

"Yes," I agreed, softly. "It is."

He released me, but I could still feel in him his anxiety at letting me go. I was out the door and sprinting away before he could say another word.

The boy and his mother were in the hospital, but they would heal, and the man could threaten them no longer. However, there was another man who was still loose, one for whom I had a much more personal reason to want to kill. It had been Zach's right to defend his mother, just as it was within my rights to avenge _mine._ The man may not be a threat to Esme any longer, but her memories still caused her plenty of pain.

I hadn't lied when I told Carlisle that it was my intent to only hunt animals. There were many of them out there, and their blood was calling to me. I had hunted many animals over the past nine years – wolves, bears, deer, lions, just to name a few – but the animals I was planning on hunting now went by different names. Predators had always tasted better than the prey they fed upon, and I was planning on adding a few new items to my menu.

And the first one went by the name of Charles Evenson.


	9. The First Taste

**The First Taste**

Running at my top speed away from my family, I felt an enormous sense of excitement. I had left them. I was their child no longer. At twenty-six years old, I was setting out to be my own man at last. No more pretending to be a human. No more feelings of constant thirst – once I found my quarry, that is. And no more high school!

I felt a twinge of pain at the knowledge that I was hurting my parents by leaving them. I hadn't even said good-bye. But if I had, they would never have let me go. Remembering the look in Carlisle's eyes, I wondered if he would let me go even now, or if he would try to follow me and bring me back. He was intuitive and empathetic – the reason he'd decided not to kill humans in the first place – and I thought it likely that he might figure out what I was planning before I could accomplish my goal. The only reason he hadn't suspected me of my intentions to murder Zach's father earlier was because his gentle nature simply hadn't let him see that I could be capable of such an act.

 _Was_ I capable? I could tell myself that he was an animal, but Charles was a human, too. A human animal, then. Which made him far worse than the wolf who ate the deer. The wolf did what was necessary to survive, where Charles did what he had done out of cruelty. A rage filled me at the memory of what I'd seen in Esme's mind, and my doubts fled. When I found him, he would die. Of that, I was certain. That he was still alive at all was infuriating!

Swerving toward the scent of flowing water, I realized that if I was going to leave them, I'd have to make it impossible for Carlisle to track me down. He'd followed my scent trails through the town to find me at Zach's house, and the last thing I wanted was for him to track me now. Kicking off my shoes, I dove head first into the cold Mississippi River and began to swim with the current. I grinned fiercely, enjoying the fact that I could stay under water for as long as I wanted. There was no way he would know where I decided to surface.

From the second I touched the water, I was truly lost to them.

My problem now, would be to find the horrid man. Charles was a very common name, though Evenson was less so. All I knew was that he and Esme had lived together in Columbus, Ohio. If I got lucky, he'd still be there. And if not, I would just have to track him down. For the first time in a long time, I saw my gift as exactly that – a _gift._ I was not limited by human laws, by human needs and frailties, and nor was I hindered even by that which limited other vampires. I could take what information I needed from unsuspecting minds. All it would require was a little prompting. Even Carlisle, who _knew_ of my gift had not been able to deny me the knowledge I had sought.

After several hours under the water, I emerged, dripping wet, into the cold, clear night. I had no idea where I was, but that didn't matter. I could see city lights in the distance, and headed for the faint glow. Upon entering the small city, I made my way through the streets, looking for any indication of where I was. My run from the river had dried my clothes and hair – I was sure it looked windswept and tangled – and I didn't care that I was still barefoot, though if I was going to interact with humans, I'd need new shoes and clothes at some point.

Briefly, I regretted leaving so suddenly. If I could have prepared, I could have taken some replacements. Ah well, I could get new ones later. If I had to, I could steal what I needed. I was planning a murder, what was a bit of theft when compared with that? Strolling barefoot through the small town, I studied the storefronts, and found the information I was looking for on a sign outside of an American Commercial Savings and Bank. I was in Davenport, Iowa. I smiled to myself in anticipation. Just a quick jump across the Mississippi, and a run across two states, and I'd be in Columbus before the end of the following day.

Though I crossed the paths of many animals on my run, they no longer interested me in the slightest. I was after bigger prey. My only concern was avoiding the streets and cities that lay in my path. I was so fast, I doubted any human would be able to see me regardless, but my first human hunt was no time to get careless. Carlisle had, at least, taught me to be cautious and remain hidden. I had no desire to be torn apart and burned for jeopardizing the secrecy of our world.

Keeping out of sight, I followed the highway that lead east, toward Columbus. As I neared the city, I avoided the small communities of homes that lay on the outskirts of the growing city. When I reached the edge of town, I found a telephone station on a corner and opened the directory that waited inside. I laughed at the irony. I had millions of dollars in the bank that I couldn't touch without giving away my location, but I didn't even have a nickel in my pocket with which to make a call. Well, it didn't really matter. Money was a human concern, and I was no longer playing human. I wasn't planning on calling Charles, anyway. I merely wanted to see if it listed where he lived.

When I opened the book to the front page, I started laughing again, this time in amazement. At the top of the page was a listing for Heaton's Music Store, while at the bottom was The Schoedinger Co. funeral directors and ambulance service. It was like my life was laid out on the page before me. I had left my piano and the music which had once been my salvation behind – I felt a pang at that thought, wondering if I would ever play again. Well, music, like money, was a human concern, and no longer one of mine - and the man I was now hunting would never need the services of the funeral director, since I didn't plan on leaving his body where it could be found.

Flipping past the first few pages, I found a listing of E's. There were only two registered users, neither of which were Evenson. I kept flipping through the various towns, scanning through the E's for the name that I sought. Elliott, Eversole, Ewing, Earl, Erlinbach, Evans, Eldridge, Elper… There! At last, in the township of Westerville was a single Evenson. Margaret Evenson, who was listed as living on Plumb Rd.

Perhaps it was a relative? Well, at least it gave me a place to start. Exiting the station, I was hit by an incredible aroma that set my venom flowing. Sniffing, I followed the scent and realized it was an early commuter that I was smelling. An average man, making his way on foot toward his shop. Staring at him, I tried to figure out why he smelled so very _good._ My muscles trembled with the need to follow him and drink him.

I stopped myself as I began to take a step in his direction. Though I had yet to kill, I was a human hunter now, and my thirst had not been this strong since my newborn year. I was thirsty, I was _hunting_ , and my natural prey was strolling along the street only a few yards away from me.

 _No._ I stopped myself, shaking my head. This anonymous man was not destined to be my first kill. That honor was reserved for the man who had made my mother's life Hell. I swallowed my venom and concentrated on Esme's memories. On Charles Evenson. Carefully, I took a breath and spoke.

"Excuse me, sir."

The man jumped. He hadn't noticed me, and my voice carried the promise of death in my quiet call. He turned and eyed me, and I knew how I looked to him. A kid, barefoot and hardly clean, out on the street at a time of morning when I should have been home in bed, as most of the citizens of the town were at that time.

"Ya?" _…gonna rob me? …ain't got nothin' fer ya kid…_

"I wonder if you could be so good as to direct me toward Westerville?"

"Oh. Ah, well, it's quite a ways a'foot." He glanced down at my bare feet.

I smiled ruefully. I really shouldn't have left my shoes. Of course, they wouldn't have done me much good after being immersed for several hours in the river. Perhaps I could have found some way to protect them, but I'd been in a hurry to get away, certain that Carlisle was only a few minutes behind me. He'd heard the tone of my voice and the deadly intent in it just as surely as this man here did. When I didn't return right away, I was certain he would look past his disbelief and our conversation would convince him of my intentions. I had had to be quick.

"That's alright," I told him calmly. I tried pitching my voice the way I'd heard Carlisle do when trying to convince a human to do as he wished. "I'm used to walking. If you could just point me in the right direction, I'll be on my way."

"Well," he hesitated, but was anxious to be away from me and the menace he could feel. "This here's Broad Street, ya?"

I nodded.

"Foller it east 'till ye hit State. Go north 'en that'll take ye right to it. Jus' foller the signs. It's a bitty town; ye'll miss it if ye blink."

"Thanks." I smiled and allowed my muscles to move at last. Strolling casually away from the man, I watched through his eyes as I padded barefoot down the street. When he looked away from me – just for a second to glance around - I sprinted down the street and was lost to his sight. Within a few minutes, I had passed through downtown Columbus, and was sprinting north. The man had been right, the signs took me straight to the small town, but where was Plumb Street?

With the inexhaustible stamina of a creature that never needs to sleep, or rest, I darted among the subdivisions, looking at the street signs, searching for the one where I hoped I would find a clue to direct me toward the man I was hunting. At last, an hour before dawn, I found it, and eagerly followed the numbers to the home of Margaret Evenson. The minds in the neighborhood were all sleeping and, unconcerned with being seen, I walked right up to the front door of the sleeping woman's house. Listening carefully, I could only detect a single mind inside.

I tried the door, but it was locked. Not wanting to leave a broken door as evidence, especially if she simply happened to be unfortunate enough to share the man's last name without being related to him, I tried the windows, hoping to find a way to enter without breaking anything. Luck was with me when I found a high bathroom window cracked open. A human would have had a difficult time climbing through, but it was no problem for me, and I landed quietly on the floor of the bathroom.

Creeping silently through the small house, I entered the woman's bedroom and stood beside her, watching her dreams. She certainly looked old enough to be the man's mother, but that didn't mean anything definitive. Reminding myself that the woman was _not_ my prey, I held my breath and waited for a few minutes, hoping she might dream of him. I saw her dream of repetitive motions, of moving lines and machine parts, and guessed she worked at one of the factories in town, but there were no faces to be seen.

Disappointed, I explored her home, finding a stack of mail on the kitchen counter. There, at last, I saw the name I'd been hoping for. Charles Evenson. My mouth filled with venom again, and my body quivered in excitement. I had his address! Before leaving the house, I returned to the woman's bedroom and stared at her in curiosity. What could have happened that this woman's son would have grown up to be so cruel? I really knew nothing of the man, other than how he had treated the woman who was to become my mother. Shaking my head, I let myself out of the woman's house, locking the front door behind me. She'd never know that she'd had a visitor in the night. Heading almost exactly northeast, I took off for the city of Cleveland.

As I neared the large city, I cast an eye on the cloud cover. The sun had risen while I ran and I could _not_ be seen by the humans if the sun broke through the scant cover the clouds were providing. I kept just close enough to the main highway to see without being seen, looking for an oil station. Though I had no need for a car – I was far faster than any vehicle could go – they were good places to pick up the road maps that were recently becoming so popular. With the government regulating the way roads were named and maintained, road maps were popping up all over the place. Carlisle had always been fascinated by the human's uses of labels and legends, and picked up new maps as often as he could find them. Yet only recently were they more than a layout of the land, rivers, mountains, and lakes with a vague impression of the major routes. Now, humans were changing their environment, and the maps they made included details of the roads they were building.

Since I still lacked any money, I would either be forced to steal a map, or simply take a good long look. Having a nearly photographic memory meant that I didn't have to have the physical map with me in order to get to where I needed to go. Once more, I regretted my impulsive decision to throw away my shoes as the clerk eyed my feet when I entered the store. After my meal, new footwear would be my first priority! Humans just didn't walk around with bare feet.

Studying the map – and ignoring the clerk – I was delighted with the way the city was laid out. In addition to the rather colorful names, many of the streets were numbered, and finding where he lived would be _easy._ I tasted my venom and smiled, excited to be so close. I was so _very_ thirsty, and the clerk was lucky that I had an agenda, or I may have given into temptation and drunk him. But, no. Charles, first. It was a good thing they had organized the city so clearly; Cleveland was huge! Finding where W 122nd Street was located, I replaced the map in the rack on the counter and left the store.

I gazed in the direction of the city, saw the haze from the factories and wished that I had a good mountain from which to look down upon it. Well, after I found Charles, I thought I might try the roof of a tall building. Since my family hunted animals, we tended to stick to the more rural regions, and I felt a sudden homesickness for the city. I hadn't thought of Chicago in a while, but I found that I missed it and the vague impressions of the bustle of so many people.

So many humans… So _much_ blood…

I shook myself, sternly concentrating on my goal. Charles needed to die. That was the important thing right then. Crossing the path of several wolves and deer on my careful run toward the city, I was tempted to follow their trails. My thirst was nearly overwhelming! Had even newborn thirst been this bad? I resisted them, though. My first taste of human blood would be all the more satisfying for a bit of thirst. If I drank an animal, even a lion, I doubted it would taste very good when my body knew how close it was to getting what it _really_ wanted.

To my dismay, as the sun rose, the cloud cover thinned until the light was shining brightly. My skin was glistening, throwing unnatural rainbows on the trees and ground around me. Frustrated, I resigned myself to waiting until that night to get any closer to the city. Charles would have one more day of life, and then he would be _mine_. Keeping the image of the map in my mind, I crept as close to the neighborhood where he lived as I dared, keeping to the forested region just outside of the city until well after the sun sank.

At last the sun set, and I strolled down W 122nd Street, following the house numbers until I found the one that had been on the envelope in Margaret's house. The thoughts and dreams of the many humans in the neighborhood could not hide the image of Charles's face in the mind of the human who was in the house with him. Unable to contain myself, I ripped the door off of its hinges, bursting into the living room where the man I'd hated for so many years sat, reading a newspaper.

The woman in the room – the one who'd been eyeing him warily - shrieked in terror, but Charles had no chance to make a sound before I had him pinned against a wall, my hand wrapped carefully around his throat.

" _You!"_ I exclaimed as though the word were a malediction. I glanced at the woman who was scrambling away to cower in fear against a wall. She was afraid of _me_ , and I didn't want that. There was a hint of a bruise across her cheek and I turned my gaze back to the man in my grasp, knowing that he hadn't changed. My body was trembling with the need to drink him, but I couldn't do so in front of her unless I wanted to drink her, too. And I didn't.

… _let him go! Don't hurt him… don't hurt_ me! _Please!…_

I glanced back at her, not understanding why she would be concerned with me hurting the man who'd hurt _her._ Knowing I'd already exposed myself far too much to her, I growled at her, "Leave. Now. Go on, get out of here."

Slowly, never taking her eyes off of me, she inched toward the broken door. As soon as she was through it, she took off running, and began screaming for the police. I cursed, annoyed at being delayed, yet again.

Charles was fighting me, hitting me, kicking at me, and pulling on my arm, trying to free himself, but I was harder than marble, my grip like iron, and his attempts had less effect on me than a summer breeze. Adjusting my hold on him, I sprinted with all the speed of which I was capable out of the door and back toward the trees where I had spent the day waiting. I was certain no human would have been able to see me. By the time anyone went to investigate the break-in, we would simply have disappeared.

In mere minutes, we were outside of the city and I released him. My fists were clenching tight enough to pulverize granite, a steady growl rumbled in my chest, and I watched as he coughed, catching his breath and looking around in astonishment. As far as he was concerned, one moment he'd been pinned against the wall, the next he'd been flying through the air, and the next, he was falling to the ground with no real understanding of how he got there.

Seeing me, he cried out and scrambled to his feet to run away. I moved, faster than he could see, and stood in front of him, blocking his escape. He skidded to a halt, and turned to run in another direction, but once again, I was there before he could take more than a few steps. He backed away from me slowly, and I saw myself in his mind: a living statue, completely still except for when I moved with unnatural speed, and my fists, which continued to clench and unclench as I fought against the desire to visit upon him that which he had inflicted upon my mother.

"W-w-what are you?" he gasped.

"I am the son of the woman you killed," I growled at him.

In his mind flashed an image of a young boy playing on a rug. _Sandra's boy?!_

"Sandra? No," I spat. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that _my_ mother wasn't the only one, but her name isn't Sandra."

"I – I don't know what you're talkin' about," he cried. "I never killed anyone! You – you've got the wrong guy!"

"Oh, I don't think so, Charles." I spoke his name with a taunting jeer. "The woman I found you with tonight will never feel your fists again, but she was hardly the first."

He swallowed hard, taking another few steps backward. As he did, I matched his movements, stepping forward, but maintaining my distance. His heart was pounding and his blood was surging in his veins. The scents of adrenaline and fear were flooding the air around me, and I was sure I would be unable to resist him for much longer. But first, I wanted him to _know._

His eyes narrowed at me, his lips curled into a sneer, and I saw a montage of women's faces flicker through his mind. _…sometimes they just need to be put in their place… taught a lesson or two…_

"'Taught a lesson'?!" I repeated, outraged. "How dare you presume to have any right to do such a thing!"

_How the hell - ?_

"I know your every thought, Charles. I can see each one of them in your mind. Sandra was only the first of many. What were the rest of their names, hmm?"

In prompting him, he automatically began to think of their names, of the women in his life who had felt his anger, though most of them had escaped with their lives.

I repeated them back to him, "Joanna. Gail. Susan. Diane. _Esme."_ My throat closed over her name, and I found him in my grasp, my arms wrapped around him from behind.

" _Esme,"_ I snarled in his ear. "Gentle and sweet, and not capable of harming a soul, and you dare to think you have a right to even _touch_ her?!"

"Esme?" he gasped in shock, struggling uselessly against my hold. "Sh-sh-she left _me!_ I didn't kill her! And she didn't have no kids!"

"I may not have been born to her, but Esme _is_ my mother."

"I-I-I didn't know she was dead, I swear. I – I'm sorry you lost your mother, but I'm tellin' you, _I_ didn't kill her!"

"Esme is dead," I confirmed in a soft whisper, "in the same way that _I_ am dead."

His hands were wrapped around my arms, and for the first time, he became aware of their icy chill, the unnatural cold of my dead skin. He gasped, and I smelled the sudden stench of fresh urine.

"And I know what you did to her. I've seen into her mind, just as I can see into yours."

His mind full of panicked, whirling thoughts, he tried again to talk his way free. "Look. You – you've made a mistake, kid. I ain't seen her in years! Y-you say you can read minds? Well, take a good look! You'll see!"

He closed his eyes and thought hard of the last time that he'd seen her. Esme's face was vivid in his mind, pink and glowing with life, and the life of the child that I knew was growing within her. Her expression was furious as she tore her arm out of his grasp and whirled to throw herself into a waiting taxi.

"You may not have landed the blow that ended her life, but she felt plenty of others that you did throw. _You,"_ I growled furiously. "You were _supposed_ to be her husband, her protector! _You_ , who should have cherished her, turned the gift of her love into one of violence and shame. Had you been any kind of a real man, she would have been able to turn to you when her child died – the child that _you_ planted within her. But no. Rather, you treated her kindness with cruelty, returned her love with hate, and so, alone and despairing, she threw herself to her death."

… _hate?! What? I didn't! No! I didn't hate her. I loved her!_

"Love? What do you know of love? Did you ever tell her she was beautiful unless she had a bruise? Did you ever even notice that she only sang when she cooked, that her favorite flowers were lilacs, or that she was happy those last few months only because she was going to be a mother?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant. She never told me... And – and I _tried_ to bring her back – " My hand tightened around his throat, cutting off his words. His voice grated on my ears, the wheedling tone nearly pushing me past the limits of my control.

"So that she _and_ the child could feel your fists?"

_No! No, I would've…_

"What? You would have _what?_ You haven't changed. I saw the woman you were with tonight. You can't tell me that she never felt your anger, too."

"Please," he whimpered. "I'm sorry! I _swear_ , I'll never touch another woman again. Just let me go!"

"No. You don't need to make me any promises, so don't bother. I know you'll never harm another person, because I'm going to _guarantee_ _it!"_

Slowly, unable to resist any longer, I moved my mouth from beside his ear to his throat, feeling the pulse in his neck as his heart sprinted in terror. He screamed and fought against me, but he had no chance of escaping my iron grip. Not wanting to let even one drop escape, I sealed my lips tight against his skin. For a moment, it felt strange, not having the tickle of fur against my mouth, but the thought was fleeting. I felt his skin give way to my razor sharp teeth as I sliced carefully through his pulsing artery, and the large vessel that fed his brain with oxygen-rich blood now served to feed _me._

Unlike with my first deer, which I had drained in seconds, there was no need or desire in me to rush his death. The man in my arms whom I had hated for so long was going to die, and far too quickly as it was. My body had been craving the taste of human blood for years. Over the past few months, the need had grown unbearable, and I was determined to enjoy his death. Despite the echo of the taste I'd caught from Esme's memories, and the echo of the way Zach's blood had tasted to himself when he'd licked his cut lip, I was completely unprepared for the taste when Charles's pounding heart pushed his blood into my mouth, or for the rush of ecstasy that took me when I swallowed my first mouthful.

Drinking deer, I may as well have been drinking muddy water. Even the lions were bland and flavorless when compared with Charles's rich human blood. Slowly, applying only just enough suction to keep his blood flowing, lost in the ecstasy and oblivious to his thoughts, I filled my mouth with his blood again and again. With each mouthful, I felt an increase in my strength. Human blood was _powerful,_ and I couldn't have stopped if I had wanted to _._ And I _didn't_ want to. Drinking it was natural, what my body wanted, needed, and far too quickly, the man ran dry. I dropped his corpse and stood for a time, my eyes closed, trembling and shivering.

Charles Evenson was _dead._

I had killed him.

I was a killer.

An image of Carlisle's face flashed behind my closed eyes. His expression was one of sadness and disapproval and I felt a moment of guilt. My father had taught me to respect human life, had worked and sacrificed to become a doctor so that he could save lives, and I had just taken one. I had chosen to take it. I had _enjoyed_ taking it.

Charles had deserved to die, I insisted to myself.

 _Nobody deserves to die,_ my father's words echoed in my ears.

He wouldn't have said that if he could have seen what I had, I argued with myself.

 _Are you sure of that?_ the traitorous part of me asked. _He'd known of Esme's past, and had not wanted to kill Charles._

Well he should have! I argued back.

 _And even if he had,_ he _would never have taken such pleasure in the man's death._

I shivered at the memory of Charles's taste, at the pleasure I could still feel, and the fading warmth that heated me from within.

No, Carlisle would never feel pleasure at another's pain, I admitted to myself. Well, I hadn't inflicted any unnecessary pain! Though I'd wanted to hit him, to snap his bones, or crush his skull, I hadn't.

_But was that out of mercy, or thirst?_

I didn't bother answering _that_ question, as I already knew the answer. My thirst, which had been nearly uncontrollable, was far from gone, though it was much less than it had been. I had left Carlisle and Esme with the intention of killing Charles, but now that the deed was done, I wasn't sure what to do. Sighing I realized I was frustrated with myself. Twenty-six I might be, but I was always and forever the impulsive teenager.

"Trapped forever at seventeen," I growled.

Well, first, I had a responsibility. Charles's body could never be found. Grabbing his corpse with distaste, I ran into the nearby foothills and found some boulders which had been deposited eons ago by the glaciers which had covered the land. Rolling one of them aside, I shoved his corpse underneath, and let the boulder fall back into place.

Satisfied that he would never be found, I wandered toward the city, pulled inexorably by the call of the blood I knew I would find there. I was still thirsty, and there was a city _full_ of people. Yet, somehow, I found myself shying away from the thought of killing those anonymous humans. I had left my parents, and did not plan on returning – at least, not any time soon. Perhaps one day, for a visit. Assuming, of course, that I could even find them.

Then again, what were the chances that Carlisle would even _want_ to see me after learning of my murder? He'd stopped me from killing Zach's father, had been furious with me when he'd realized that I'd even been thinking of it. How would he react now that I'd committed act of premeditated murder? I sighed, picturing the look I knew I would see on his face, were he to find out what I'd just done.

What I wanted to continue to do.

Killing random humans didn't appeal to me, but I didn't think I'd be capable of returning to an animal diet. The memory of Charles's blood was too strong. How had Esme done it? I shook my head in admiration of Esme's strength.

I kept licking my lips, savoring the memory of Charles's taste. My senses seemed to be much stronger, and each human who passed me was a temptation that I had to resist. I was surrounded by their thoughts and they all seemed to be yelling. I ran my hands through my hair, uncertain of what my next move should be. I desperately wanted to drink again, but if I killed these people, I would be no better than the man whose life I had just ended.

Feeling overwhelmed by my increased sensitivity to the minds around me, I leaned against the wall of a building and closed my eyes, concentrating on blocking them out so that I could think. There had been a time when I hadn't wanted to be a killer, but it was too late to go back now. I _was_ a killer. Charles's blood was still coursing through me, and I wanted _more_. My venom was flowing, and it took all of my willpower not to start randomly killing the humans who surrounded me. My hands were trembling with the need to simply grab someone and drink.

Maybe coming into the city hadn't been a good idea.

Slowly, their thoughts faded into more of the background noise that I had become used to. As I concentrated, I focused on individual minds, tuning in on specific people, and tuning out the multitude. I found myself in a mind that was staring at a gun. I cried out in shock when that mind was suddenly silent. I'd just watched someone die! I searched close to where I'd lost the mind and quickly found another; the one who'd been holding the gun and who was now rifling through the pockets of the man on the ground. I was looking through the eyes of a killer, and could see the spreading red puddle leaking from the body on the ground.

Smiling, I followed the direction of his thoughts, drawn toward the irresistible call of the human's flowing blood. Turning down streets at random, I weaved my way closer to the killer. He'd left the body and moved on before I caught up with him, but there was blood flowing through _his_ veins, too, and was not drying, wasted on the ground.

I turned a corner and saw myself in his mind: a kid, out in the city at night, walking down a dark street toward a killer. He glanced at my bare feet, and scoffed to himself. I obviously had no money if I couldn't even afford shoes, and wasn't worth his time. Scanning quickly for anyone who could see us, and finding no one, I launched myself at the man, holding him pressed up against the wall before he could blink.

_What the hell?_

He met my eyes in surprise and confusion, and I saw myself up close in his mind. Gasping, I stared back into his eyes in shock. No longer the deep black they'd been for weeks, and no longer the healthy gold of a well-fed vampire, my eyes were a dark red, like I had not seen since my newborn days. Of course. I should have realized what I would see. I'd seen Carlisle's memories of the vampires he'd known and they'd all had red eyes, but somehow I hadn't connected their color with the change in my feeding habits. Just like the other vampires Carlisle had known, I was now a red-eyed monster, a human killer.

Well, the man in my grasp was a killer, too, and the man he'd just murdered was neither the first, nor had he planned on that one being the last. He was fighting against me, struggling to break free as uselessly as Charles had. I hadn't wanted to kill random strangers, but this man would go kill again given the chance, just as Charles would have. Carlisle said nobody deserved to die, but if I let this man live, I'd be condemning an unknown number of people to death by his hands, to feed his greed.

If I killed him, I'd be _saving_ lives.

I grinned, seeing my glistening teeth in his mind, ignoring the pleas he was unable to voice. Quickly, I pulled his throat to my mouth, and for the second time, drank a human's blood. This time I didn't linger, pulling his blood into my body as quickly as though he were a deer. He was dead before he was aware of what I was doing, and I dropped him, sighing in relief at the quenching of the fire within me.

After allowing myself a few minutes to savor the pleasure from drinking him, I stared at his body, wondering what to do with him. Recalling how he'd just robbed a man, I searched his pockets and took the money he had stolen. Hearing an approaching human, I grabbed my victim and brought him back to the scene of _his_ crime. I laid him in the pool of the other man's blood, hoping to disguise the fact that I had drained him. I took the man's gun and aimed at the place on his neck where I had bitten him, knowing that I needed to disguise my bite mark. I was stunned to find that there wasn't one.

Squatting close to his body, I saw the faintest glimmer of venom where the wound should have been. Smiling, I realized the reason why humans had never found out that vampires were among them was that the very act of killing them provided us with the means of hiding. Though there was no blood in the man's body anymore and his heart didn't beat, so he could not go through the change that would make him a vampire, the venom had reacted with the wound in the way it had my own body. My childhood scars were gone, healed as though the wounds had never been, and this man's wound was gone, now, too.

Well, I still needed to disguise the fact that he had no blood. I aimed the gun at him again. The shot was surprisingly loud in the narrow alley.

The human police were already on their way, due to the reports of the shot that had killed the man's victim. I glanced at the man he'd murdered, briefly wondering who he'd been, and if I could have saved him, had I seen the other man's intent in time. The humans were getting closer, and I needed to make my escape. Crouching down, I leapt toward the roof of one of the buildings. I nearly laughed out loud at the extra strength I could feel just from the two humans I'd killed that night.

Cleveland was a large city, and crimes were happening all the time. Some were robberies, like the one I'd witnessed, where the victim may or may not have been physically harmed. There were crimes of passion, and carefully planned out premeditated murders. And then there were those crimes like to what I had seen in Esme's mind. Humans were a violent and dangerous species, but I was a member of the most dangerous species of predators to have ever existed.

I'd told Carlisle I wanted to make a difference, to do some good in the world. Murder was wrong, yes, but if I took a killer off of the street, how was that any different from what the police did? The humans practiced the death penalty, too. Rather than having to sit through court, where the killer might not be brought to justice, _I_ was able to meet out their sentence immediately. Likewise, I had no questions of whether or not a human was innocent. My gift allowed me to see past their lies.

I'd been looking for a purpose, and I thought that at last, perhaps I'd found it. Like Carlisle, I would save lives: directly stopping a crime when I could, preventing additional future crimes when I couldn't. I would hand out justice, and be both a killer and a savior at the same time.

Grinning, still thirsty, I stretched out with my enhanced senses, and searched for the thoughts of another killer.

* * *

**A/N**

Fun story. When I was researching things about this time period, I came across the 1927 Columbus phone book Edward reads. The first page was exactly as described, with the funeral director on the bottom and the music store on the top. Hah!


	10. Monster

**Monster**

Thirst. Ecstasy. Remorse. Boredom. Anger. Repeat.

For four years I'd been existing on my own. The first months had been exhilarating. The freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, was completely new to me. At twenty-six years old, I'd had enough of high school and my parents' loving, but watchful eyes. Enough of leading a useless, fruitless existence. Enough of the monotony, of the constant burning thirst, of feeling excluded by everyone, of being a _child!_

There had been those few months in Rio when I'd explored the exotic city on my own, but I'd still returned to the island most days. At first it had been wonderful to watch Esme blossom under Carlisle's sun. The memories of her human life – like mine – had faded and blurred when she'd been transformed. Some memories were etched too deeply to be erased, but Carlisle and I did everything we could to replace them with new ones. _Good_ ones. She'd been as close to tears as it was possible for a vampire to get the first time I'd called her "Mom."

It had felt good to be a part of a family again, with two loving parents, and eternity to explore. Esme had been overjoyed to have a loving husband and a son, long after she'd thought such a fate was lost to her. All too soon the reality of my existence had hit me, and I'd really begun to understand what it meant to be seventeen forever.

Now, I had a new existence, but nothing had really changed. Except for me. Vampires _didn't_ change, except in the face of profound events. We were frozen, dead creatures and it took extreme measures to change us. I'd seen Carlisle change when he brought Esme into our coven.

And I'd been happy for him. And I'd been jealous of him.

Knowing what I was, I knew how unlikely it was that I would ever find a mate as he had, and I'd felt to my core the truth of my words to him: two was company; three was a crowd. And one was lonely. As he had been lonely for centuries before he'd made me.

He had changed when he'd found love, became a husband.

And me?

I'd changed when I'd murdered, become a killer. How he would despise me if he knew what I had become. No longer his golden-eyed son, now I was a red-eyed monster. I knew what a demon I was every time I saw my face in the minds of the men just before I killed them. When I could, I'd take them from behind, draining them before they ever saw me, or knew that death had found them in the form of a thirsty vampire. Yet that was not always possible.

My eyes glowing red, my teeth glistening with venom, my face and hands as white as marble - or rather, as white as the dead creature that I was - the humans would recoil before me in fear, and I'd see myself in their minds as I stalked them. Their images of the red-eyed monster stalked me, too. From hundreds of angles, in alleys and homes, in back rooms and deserted city streets, the monster looked back at me from their eyes as I hunted for those who would feed my hunger, who would quench my thirst. Yet any more, I came away from the pleasure of drinking feeling empty - an unsatisfied monster already searching for his next victim.

I had committed myself to only killing criminals, but more and more, I found it difficult to convince myself that this made me less of a demon. I would stare at my face in the mirror for hours, searching for any sign of the man I used to be, but he was gone. I'd killed him when I'd killed Charles. Even assuming that Charles's death was warranted - richly deserved for what I'd seen him do to my mother - _after_ I'd killed him, I should have gone home. If I'd begged his forgiveness, Carlisle might have taken me back. Esme had made mistakes, after all. But mine hadn't _been_ a mistake. It had been premeditated, deliberate, revenge, a kill made in anger and hate.

And thirst, oh, yes.

But _after_.

I had not gone home. I had – well, there were no other words for it – I had gone on a killing spree. My body had demanded the blood I'd denied it for years, and I'd hunted down every man in the city of Cleveland whom I could find in the act of committing, or even _remembering_ committing a murder. My newly expanded senses had given me a wider range, adding at least another mile onto my already wide three-mile radius of mental hearing, and I'd walked through the city with my mind open, searching. That first night alone, I'd killed half a dozen men. It had been ridiculously easy, finding criminals in the large city.

There had been no reason to limit myself to murderers, either. There were many crimes of violence that did not end in the victims' death. Women and children were always vulnerable to the predatory appetites of men, and if I found one in the act of committing – or about to commit, or who had already committed - an unspeakable crime, he would pay with his life.

Prowling through residential districts with tall apartment buildings had provided me with another way to protect the citizens. Esme was on my mind constantly, and I knew that men like Charles, or like Zach's father, were more common than people wanted to admit to or believe. Hearing those scenarios as they occurred or were remembered, I would find the apartments and flash in, grabbing the men and running away with them before I could be seen. As far as the women were concerned, their abusers simply disappeared.

I didn't understand what was wrong with those men. Women were meant to be cherished and protected! They might not all have been gentle creatures like my mother – either my human one, or my vampire one – but even the sharpest tongue did not warrant a retaliation with violence!

_And yet, wasn't that what I was doing? Retaliating with violence?_

No! They were monsters, and they deserved to die.

_Then couldn't the same be said for me? I was a killer, too. A red-eyed monster who fed on human blood. Just because I chose to feed on other monsters did not make me less of one._

It's not the same. I'm trying to protect people!

 _By turning yourself into a monster?_ Carlisle's words mocked me.

Pacing the city streets, I warred with myself constantly. Vampires were _meant_ to kill humans. I had been granted the gift of mind reading, allowing me to see those who were predators. I didn't kill innocents, I _saved_ them. I was a protector. Carlisle saved human lives directly, but I couldn't exactly become a doctor. Not only was I too young, but drinking so much human blood had heightened my awareness of it. I'd never have been able to walk away from a bleeding classmate now, much less to bandage one. What other way was available to me, now? There was no coming back from being a killer. It was what I would forever be, just as I would forever be seventeen.

I'd killed so many those first months that I'd had to leave Cleveland. Two, sometimes three men a night had died to quench my thirst. My actions were being noticed, and _that_ was a bad thing. It wasn't the method of their deaths that were noticed, but rather their numbers, and the types of men I was killing. To counter this, when I'd entered the next city, I'd resigned myself to caution and restraint, and limited my kills to only a few times a week, unless I found them acting in concert.

I grew proficient in hiding my kills and none of my victims were ever found, unless I could disguise the way they died. As I had done with the first man, I could make their bodies look like a part of their own murder scenes. Sometimes, I would disguise them as suicides. It was easy to toss their bodies off of a high roof. If I did so when it was raining, the humans would not be able to tell that my victim had been drained of blood before their supposed jump. Rivers and lakes provided me with another simple method of hiding my kills. If the bodies were ever found, it was long after they had been scavenged by animals, and their long submersion underwater made their method of death by exsanguination undetectable.

Other times, if the weather permitted and I could find an easy and safe way to do so, I would set them on fire. All too clearly, I could recall a scene involving a dozen men. I had _feasted_ that night. Afterward, while I watched the building they'd been in as it burned down, I'd been so full of blood, of the warmth from their blood, and the lingering feelings of pleasure, I'd felt almost sleepy.

The last time I had slept, I'd been dying, and my fevered dreams had been horrifying ones of being burned alive, and of being frozen, simultaneously. That had been thirteen years ago. I hadn't slept since awakening as a vampire, and I would never sleep again, unless one counted the final sleep of death. Just because I would never die didn't mean I couldn't be killed.

The humans I had killed were all monsters in their own rights, but so was I. When I drank their blood, ending their lives, I had no doubt that they would find themselves burning in Hell for their sins. Killing the killers meant that I was sending their souls to their richly deserved everlasting punishment, but what of me? I had killed more than _any_ of _them_. I had only to look into my burning red eyes to know that I had no soul left to receive punishment.

Or redemption, for that matter.

Occasionally, I found myself staring at the corpses of my victims and wondering if they could have ached for redemption the way I did. Like those I killed, though, I was long past such an option. If – _when_ – I was killed, would I vanish? Or would I exist still, in a state of never-ending torment in my pile of ashes?

I could still recall the feeling of my soul being ripped from my body while I burned from Carlisle's venom. Had I really lost my soul that day? Or had it been the moment Charles's blood crossed my lips. Or was it more gradual, and each kill had stripped more of it away from me until I was left as I was now, an empty husk, consisting of little more than thirst and boredom?

Did it matter?

A soulless monster was a soulless monster, either way. I would never know the peace of Heaven, and the only thing I had to look forward to was either existence as a pile of ashes, or oblivion. If my mother were to look down from Heaven upon me, I had no doubt that she'd be horrified. And Carlisle and Esme, too. If they could see what their son had become, they would despise me, surely. Even with Carlisle's seemingly endless capacity for forgiveness and Esme's overflowing ability to love, how could they not see me as anything other than a failure?

Thirst.

Another dark alley. Another man's life. Another woman I was too late to save. My gift had become a torment to me. Especially with the enhanced range and strength of my hearing that being a human hunter brought, I was constantly bombarded with unwelcome thoughts. Over the past year, I'd begun to close my mind to them as much as I was capable of doing. This meant that I didn't have to intrude on humans having healthy loving relationships that I really had _no_ interest in witnessing, nor did I have to hear angry thoughts that did not lead to a crime I could punish. However, this also meant that I was missing more that I _should_ have been able to stop. I growled and kicked the body of the man I'd just killed.

Damn it!

I walked away from the scene, my fists clenched, trembling with pain and anger. Eternity stretched out before me, with no relief from my torments in sight. I was thirty years old. I should have had a wife and children by now. I should have had a promising career – likely in my father's law firm. Not that becoming a lawyer had appealed to me, but it was what he had wanted, and I had been so desperate for his approval. I should have had a home, not been wandering through the cities, alone and homeless.

Carlisle had done this to me! Knowing how lonely he'd been, how the thirst had tormented him, how he'd had no real future, _still_ he'd seen fit to inflict this upon me! I _hated_ being a vampire! Catching my ferocious expression in a reflection off of a window pane, I saw my red eyes blazing with hate, and smashed my fist through the glass wall.

Remorse.

He'd only been trying to help me. My imagined future as a husband and father had never been possible. I'd been _dying._ I had never had a future. From the moment when the first signs of the influenza had hit me, my fate had been sealed. I was dead. Nothing could have changed that. Not even Carlisle. His venom had changed my body, but it hadn't changed my fate.

Alone, I wandered through yet another city. I'd visited so many of them over the past four years. They had all been different – the layout of the streets, the shapes and sizes of the buildings, the various inhabitants. And yet they were all the same – the concrete and steel combining with human ingenuity and vitality to create a living jungle of their own making. One where a predator could walk, undetected, and feast on the inhabitants.

There had been several times over the past four years when I'd made a hasty retreat from a city. The scents of humans were distinct, and yet varied widely, but when I'd come across the scent of a vampire, I'd known it for what it was instantly. I knew how territorial our species was, and had no desire for a confrontation over hunting grounds when there were millions of humans in other, unoccupied cities.

Boredom.

At first, I had entertained myself with the attractions that the cities had to offer. Plays and movies in fantastic theaters had fascinated me for months. Sitting next to the humans in the dark and crowded enclosed spaces had given me a thrill of fear and temptation that had enhanced the shows that I saw. And yet, after a time, even those had paled. The thrill was lost; I wouldn't hurt the humans around me, and I knew it. The shows were all the same: introduction, conflict, romance, betrayal, climax, resolution. Even if I found the ingenuity of the moving pictures interesting, their subject matter was not. Humans didn't like to acknowledge that unhappy endings were more likely than happy ones. Eventually, I had stopped going.

There were plenty of concerts I could have attended, but didn't. Hearing the music had caused me a pain that was difficult to define, until I had realized that I didn't want to _hear_ it; I wanted to _play_ it, but that life was over for me now. I had thrown it away.

Anger.

It was ridiculous to be pining over an instrument! A piece of furniture made of wood and felt and wire! A thing which I had used to escape from the realities of my existence. A way I had hid from my parents' questions and attempts to include me in their lives. I'd _had_ a home. I'd _had_ a family. I'd been _good!_ And I'd thrown it away. I had _chosen_ to throw it away. And for what? The chance to commit murder?! The opportunity to drink something tastier than deer?

Granted, deer were unappealing, even when I hadn't known what I was missing out on. But I'd had fun hunting the hunters. I'd enjoyed chasing the wolf packs, tussling with the bears, and antagonizing the lions. The forests had been so peaceful, with no thoughts, no horns, no sirens, and no animal I'd ever fed on had looked at me in horror, or shown me my face as I swooped in for the kill. When I had drunk their blood, there had been no regret, no remorse.

Only thirst.

I wasn't truly alone. The thirst of my red-eyed monster was my constant companion, even when I'd just drunk. I could have drunk every human in the city, and _still_ I'd have been thirsty. The more I drank, the more I _wanted_ to drink. When I tried to limit my kills, to murder less often, it was harder to resist what I'd stopped myself from doing that first night: randomly killing any human who was unlucky enough to cross my path. So far, I had avoided killing anyone who was not a criminal of the worst sort, but I was only a step away from giving in to my monstrosity all the way.

There were times when I was tempted to do just that. I'd once been human. Carlisle had changed me into a vampire, but _I_ had changed myself into a monster. Murdering other murderers did nothing to change that fact, and I was tired of lying to myself about the evil in my choice. Of pretending to still be good just because the men I killed were also bad. Their evil didn't make me any less evil when I was the reason their life was over.

Thirst.

It had been over a week since I'd killed last. My body was aching with need, with desire, with _thirst_. I usually didn't go so long between meals, but although I wanted to drink, I no longer wanted to kill. I wasn't sure what to do about it, though. My body needed blood like humans needed food. Even though not drinking wouldn't exactly kill me, just the thought of going without blood made my throat ache and burn.

… _gonna kill that bastard…_

Catching the kind of thought I'd trained myself to listen for, I automatically began walking in the direction from which the thought had come.

… _mess 'im up good… teach 'im to steal from me…_

I turned the corner and began walking down the street to where the man whose thought I was following waited. Shocked, I stopped in the shadows where I couldn't be seen and stared at him.

Carlisle?!

The moment the thought entered my head, I dismissed it. No, of course it wasn't him. But the man _looked_ like him. Tall and lightly muscled, with a young, clean-shaven face, and a head full of bright yellow hair, the man looked much like my father must have when he had lived. Except for his eyes. Unlike Carlisle's – which had always been warm and full of love – this man's eyes burned with hate.

Just like my own.

I backed away. No matter what crimes the man had committed, or been about to commit, there was no way I'd have been able to drink him. My stomach twisted and stabbing pains shot through me. Groaning, I wrapped my arms around myself, closed my eyes, and leaned against a wall. Behind my closed lids was the face I'd seen in my victims' minds. My own red eyes glared back at me and my lips were curled into a mocking sneer, exposing the glistening teeth that had been the end of their lives.

Thirst.

My muscles trembled as I fought against the need to run back to the alley and drink the human man.

_Thirst._

What good would drinking him do? I'd just be thirsty again as soon as he was dead. I pushed away from the wall, and forced myself to walk away from the murderer who was stabbing his victim at that very moment.

_Thirst._

Carlisle's words from after my first hunt echoed in my ears. _Killing is killing, for whatever reason. I'm sure it would have left its mark upon him._

Of course he'd been right. He'd been right about everything he'd ever told me.

_Thirst!_

Only I was too stubborn, too stupid to admit it, to listen, to follow his advice.

_Thirst!_

Again, I heard his words, _…the path you were heading for was not a healthy one. Whether in anger, vengeance, or callous feeding, becoming a murderer would have damaged you._

The image of his face warred with that of my own. The golden eyes which had always been full of compassion stared back at the red ones which were filled with hatred.

_Thirst!_

He wouldn't even recognize his son, now. Where I used to see my smiling face in his mind, instead it was contorted with anger, with hatred, with evil.

Of _course_ he'd been right. Each and every man I'd killed had left his mark upon me. Each time I'd killed, I'd damaged myself further until I didn't even know who I was anymore. Certainly not the boy who'd played psalms for my human mother in church.

_Thirst!_

Certainly not the boy who'd made Esme laugh when I sang with her.

_**Thirst!** _

Certainly I was no longer the boy who'd built a house on a beach for my parents to live in. Not even bothering using any tools, I'd helped them build a home with my bare hands.

No. Not me. _That_ boy was dead.

_**THIRST!** _

I'd killed him.

"Ah!" I fell to my knees and fought the desire to start sobbing like a small child.

"Are you alright, my son?"

Shocked, I glanced at the human who was speaking to me. I looked behind him to see that I'd stopped in front of a church.

 _My son,_ Carlisle had once called me.

I shook my head. No. I was not alright.

"Would you like to come inside? It looks like it might snow, and you look like you could use a place to get warm."

_**THIRST!** _

He held his hand out to me, and I stared at it in horror. The monster in me was fighting against my control with the need to take this man, this _priest_ , right in front of his church and drink him. I was sure he would taste better than the criminals I had limited myself to. Although among animals, the predatory species had been the most flavorful, among humans, the criminals' blood was usually tainted with alcohol, nicotine, or some other foul substance. This priest's blood was sure to be clean. The fire raked down my throat and the monster within me screamed for his blood.

Alongside the screaming monster, I could hear another voice, but this one was soft and musical. _My father was a priest, and I was training to be one._

The human was so close to me, not three feet away, and I could hear his pounding heart, smell his blood, feel the heat of his living body coming off of him.

"No," I gasped, and I could hear my terror in the word.

"It's alright," he said, gently, able to see my fear, though he didn't understand it. "I won't hurt you." His lips curved into a smile.

 _I won't hurt you,_ Carlisle had told me. As if that were even possible.

"But I might hurt _you,"_ I whispered, unsure if I was talking to the human man, or to my father.

_You don't want to attack me. That is not who you are._

Maybe that had once been true, but I was no longer who I had been. Now, I had become nothing more than a murderer.

 _No. You are my best friend, my brother, my_ son _._

"Father!" I cried out.

 _Go home, Edward,_ he insisted.

"Home? I don't have a home."

_You don't have to go through whatever this is alone._

"But I _am_ alone."

_Tell me what I can do._

"Help me," I moaned.

_Whatever you need, just ask._

"Forgive me," I whispered.

_Oh, my son, of course I do._

Before I knew it, I was on my feet and sprinting toward the last place I had been able to call home. For two days, I ran without stopping, excitement and fear coursing through me. What if he refused to accept me back? I shook my head. It didn't matter. I had to try.

I knew before I saw the house that they were no longer there. Their scents were long gone. Bitter disappointment filled me and I sat on the porch, not willing to go inside. Of course they couldn't have stayed. Carlisle had already given his resignation before I had left. My disappearance would have raised questions, drawn attention to them.

_Go home, Edward._

I tried.

_Come home with me._

But you aren't here.

 _Go home,_ he insisted.

I don't have one anymore!

_Hurry back to us._

Where?

 _South,_ he said, firmly.

I gasped. Of course! No matter where we had moved, or where we would move in the future, there was one place where we would always be able to call our home.

"Isle Esme," I breathed. Chances were that they wouldn't be there when I arrived, but I was sure they would go back eventually. We'd visited our island regularly and I would wait there as long as necessary for them to return. Forever, if that was what it took. But first, I had to get there.

The prospect of making my way through the southern states, across Central America, and much of South America to reach the island off the coast of Brazil on my own was daunting. It was a long way – not that distance was really a problem, but the Southern war certainly was – and I would have to traverse the hostile territory if I wanted to get to the only other place I could think of to find my family. If I didn't have my mind reading, I wouldn't even have considered it, but if I kept alert, I'd be able to hear any vampires before they could smell me.

However, I was faced with another problem that I hadn't yet allowed myself to consider. I was _thirsty._ I'd been thirsty when I'd turned away from the blond man. I'd been thirsty when I'd run away from the priest. I was _always_ thirsty, but I was used to drinking whenever I wanted and there were millions of humans between where I was and where I needed to go. Evil was everywhere I looked, and finding a meal over the past four years hadn't been a problem. But if I was going to return to my family, I couldn't do so as a human hunter.

Pain raked through me again at the thought of going without blood. Groaning, I wrapped an arm across my stomach and rubbed my aching throat. My venom, once a delicious honey, was burning my mouth. Well, humans weren't the only blood source.

The face I'd come to hate, the one of myself with red eyes sneered at me. _You're really going to go back to drinking_ deer _after tasting humans?_

Yes, I insisted.

 _Oh, I don't think so._ I found myself on my feet, walking toward the town where I had once wandered, avoiding my family and my school. My feet had automatically followed a familiar path, and I stopped, astonished to find myself so close to Zach's house.

No! I had no desire to see _that_ place again. I turned and sprinted into the mountains where I had last hunted animals. Far from any human thoughts, I opened my senses the way Carlisle had taught me. I closed my eyes and listened, hearing the peace of the forest. After so many years among the noise and bustle of the cities, the mountain seemed eerily quiet. The air was still, and in the absence of any wind, the leaves weren't moving and whispering to me. It was winter, and the animals were not flitting about the forest. The only sound I could hear was that of the monster in my head who was demanding that I stop this nonsense and go drink someone!

No. I don't want to be a killer.

_It's too late for that._

That may be, but I'm not going to kill again.

 _You_ are _a killer._

Not anymore!

My stomach clenched, and a fire similar to the one that had changed me from human to vampire burned through me. I fell to the ground, shaking. I _needed_ to hunt! My body was demanding what I'd given it with abandon for the past four years, and my refusal to give in now had me crying out in astonishment at my body's reaction to the knowledge that I would not be giving it human blood again. Not drinking had never caused me pain before. What was wrong with me?

Moaning and trembling, I stood and stumbled through the forest, seeking the scent trail of an animal, _any_ animal. Finding a small family of deer, I nearly wept with relief and threw myself at the first one. I barely registered the once familiar feeling of fur as I sank my teeth into the deer's neck, draining it in seconds.

Dropping the beast, I fell to my knees beside it, clutching at my rebellious stomach. Pain shot though me as my body tried to reject the deer and I fought to keep the blood down. It had tasted disgusting and was _not_ what I had been craving. I knew, though, that it would still nourish me. After a time, the feeling subsided, and I was sure I wasn't going to vomit.

But I was still _thirsty._ The deer had done nothing to help.

_Of course it hadn't. Drinking animals is unnatural._

And being a killer isn't?!

_It's what you were made to do._

That doesn't make it right.

_Being a killer is your fate._

It doesn't have to be!

Carlisle had told me that if I believed that being a killer was my fate, then there was no way I would be able to stop myself from making that belief a reality. As always, he'd been right. I had killed so many people. The need was growing in me to drink more of them.

Once again, the image of his face warred with that of the red-eyed monster. _Do you_ want _to kill people?_ he demanded.

No, I insisted.

Standing, I started to search for another animal. Perhaps a predator would help more than the deer. It was winter, and wolves often trailed behind the herds, harrying the weak, trying to bring down a meal. I followed the deer's scent trails back through the trees, and found what I was seeking within minutes: a couple of wolves, creeping behind the prey we had both hunted. They eyed me warily as I approached. I wasn't sure what I smelled like to them, but they had never seemed to see my family as either predators or prey in the years that I had hunted them in the past.

We were dead creatures, and although wolves were not above scavenging, we were not rotting corpses; we were living stone. We moved, but not like other living creatures they had seen before. We didn't run away in fear, or challenge them for territory. Still, an approaching creature that had no fear of them caused one to yip nervously, warning me from coming any closer. I ignored the beast, sniffing the once familiar scent of living wolf. Although it wasn't as good as I remembered, neither was it disgusting like the deer had been.

Excited, I grabbed a wolf and drank him.

"Damn it!" I growled, throwing his body away from me as I sank to the ground, clutching my stomach again. Although it had tasted better than the deer, my body still wanted to reject the creature's blood. The monster within me wanted nothing to do with animal blood, and I was sure that anything I tried would have the same affect on me.

 _There is a town_ full _of people, not an hour's run away._

I don't care.

_There is bound to be at least one other man like Zach's father there._

It doesn't matter.

 _Doesn't a man like that_ deserve _to die?_

Nobody deserves to die!

Writhing on the ground, I thought that I might be the exception to _that_ rule. How many men had I killed? Thousands, surely, and that had only been over a span of four years. I would live forever. If I could not conquer the need to keep killing, how many more would die because of me? If I went back to killing now, I doubted that I would be able to stick to criminals. Moaning, I curled into a ball as I fought the tremors that shook me.

I had two choices: to win this fight against my nature, or to give in to it fully. I couldn't continue to live as I had been, pretending to be good, while doing evil instead. Murder was evil, and all of my justifications had only been lies I'd told myself.

 _You are no killer, my son,_ Esme had once told me.

But I _was_.

_I know that you're in pain right now, but you will heal, as I have done._

"Mom," I moaned.

_Let it go._

"I don't know how!"

 _Concentrate! Remember what you told me; you don't_ want _to be a killer, do you?_

"No."

_Then you need to stop this pattern of thought right now._

"Yes, Father," I sighed, grateful for his guidance, even when I knew he wasn't really there.

I wasn't sure how long I lay on the forest floor before the tremors subsided. Weeks? Days, surely. Though I couldn't hear them, there were times when I was certain that I had screamed in pain like I had done during my transformation from human to vampire. Only this time, my change was from monster to man. Not _human_ , of course; I would never be that again, but neither was I willing to be a monster anymore.

My ears were filled with the sounds of Carlisle and Esme's remembered words, and that of the monster who fought for control over me. I fought against his hatred with the love I remembered feeling for my parents. I fought against the despair he tried to fill me with by concentrating on the hope that they would accept me back.

As I fought against my body's need for human blood, I tried to understand what was happening to me. Esme had drank humans, and _she_ had never felt like this! Eventually I realized that part of the difference was that I had _chosen_ to become a monster. I had done so with the intent of killing Zach's father, and when prevented from that murder, actively sought out a man whom I hated so that I could drink him, instead. It was that choice that made the difference between being a killer as Esme was, and being a monster. It was that choice which was giving him power over me.

I knew another difference between us was the amount I'd drunk versus what she had. Her few accidents had also happened while she'd still had her own human blood in her system, whereas _I_ had spent four years drinking thousands of humans. I had no doubt that she'd suffered an increase in her already considerable newborn thirst, but that had been merely a difference in the degree of the pain she was already in. Plus, she had been in the process of falling in love with Carlisle, and had had both his support and my own, whereas _I_ was alone.

But I held fast to my hope that I would not be alone for long.


	11. Returning

**Returning**

Sitting on the side of the mountain, I stared south, trying to build my courage for the hard journey I was planning. My tremors had finally died, and I was no longer in physical pain. I was thirsty, yes – of course – but that was an ache I was used to. I knew that I would feel thirsty for eternity, and paid the dry burning no attention.

Though my physical pain had ended, I knew that I had yet to face another type of pain, one for which I was not yet ready. The damage I had done to myself was less to my body than it was to my state of mind, and the emotional pain I was bound to experience was something I wasn't prepared to face alone.

What I would do if my parents refused to accept a murderer back into their lives, I wasn't sure. I couldn't blame them if they chose to turn me away. At least I would see them again, tell them I was sorry for what I had done to them. If they sent me away afterward, I would simply have to accept that as the consequences of my actions.

First, though, I would have to make my way to the island where my hopes rested.

There were times when I was grateful for vampire recall. I could see clearly the images of the maps that Carlisle, Esme, and I had contemplated when we had planned on running south. My journey would be very much like traveling with a newborn, only there would be no one to tackle me and bring me back to reason should I scent a human. The thought of accidentally killing one terrified me. The idea of remaining in the safe, familiar mountain range for eternity was tempting.

 _Maybe I should do just that. Carlisle and Esme were bound to return_ someday, _right?_

 _Coward,_ I scoffed.

Regardless, I had no guarantee that remaining where I was would keep me away from human contact. Humans hunted in these mountains, too. No, I needed to get to a place where I could be certain that I would not come into contact with a human. And that meant Isle Esme.

I thought my best choice might be the same one I had used to hide myself from Carlisle. The rivers. I wouldn't be able to smell any humans from under water. The problem was, humans liked to build cities along the waterways, and I knew from my newborn days, that just hearing their thoughts could be almost as bad as smelling them.

However, not only would the water hide the scent of humans from me, it would hide my scent from the vampires which I knew lived and warred in the south. It would be nearly as difficult keeping myself from _being_ killed as it would be to keep myself from killing. Either way, there were no rivers that ran the entire length, so I would have to find a way to cross the land without relying on water for protection.

Scared and indecisive, I sat on the mountain and didn't move, not even bothering to blink or breathe.

My still form blended into the scenery, and once I was no longer scaring the wildlife away with my screams, I was just one rock among many. I hadn't killed since the wolf, and when I saw a lion slinking across my field of vision, I didn't bother trying to resist the desire to fling myself at the beast. The deer had been disgusting. The wolf had tasted better, but only marginally. I was worried that no animal would ever taste good to me again. More than that, I worried that my body would still try to reject the animal blood.

Holding the young beast in my arms, I closed my eyes and inhaled the once familiar aroma of my favorite prey. He spat and scratched at me, writhing in my grip, but I ignored his efforts to free himself as I ran my nose through the fur on his neck. Tracing the vein there, I listened to the sound of his pounding heart, and felt his warmth. Gratefully tasting a trickle of venom, I sank my teeth into his neck, and nearly wept with relief at the taste of his blood. Nowhere near as good as human, he was still delicious, and I took my time, savoring the once familiar flavor.

I dropped his corpse, and sighed in pleasure at the slowly spreading warmth. Though this one had delivered himself to me, I was an animal hunter again! Even better, he'd been tasty, and I didn't feel like I would vomit. Grinning, I prowled the forest, finding and drinking another wolf – the second was much better than the first had been – and another deer. Though she didn't seem disgusting, exactly, she was just as flavorless as ever, and I thought I should stick to predators for the time being. I topped off my hunt with a young black bear, who tasted nearly as good as the lion had.

Quite full, the dry ache in my throat barely registering, I began my run home. It took me over a week to cross Minnesota, South Dakota, and Wyoming before reaching Colorado and the river for which I'd been heading. I'd kept my mind open the whole way, in fear of running across a human. Following Esme's example, I didn't breathe, not even bothering to hunt. The first part of my journey was the hardest, as Minnesota had more humans than the other three states combined, but I stuck to the mountains, and went slow. Travel at night was easier, as I was able to use the glow of the cities to avoid getting close.

Still, though I avoided the cities, there were individual houses scattered about and I was a threat to each and every inhabitant whose thoughts I could hear. The times I'd become aware of another's thoughts intruding on my own, I'd backtracked quickly, closing my mind to them in the way I'd begun doing in the cities over the past year. Though the monster within me fought against my control, I kept Carlisle and Esme's faces firmly in my thoughts, and did not allow myself to even consider drinking the humans. I was done with that life, and determined to live as Carlisle had taught me. Once I reached the more sparsely populated states, I sprinted at my full speed, knowing there would be very few humans in my way. If I ran fast enough, I'd be past them before I could be tempted.

The further south I traveled, the more nervous I became. As far west as I was, there weren't many large cities, even by the rivers, but I had no idea what the southern covens really considered to be their territory. I only knew that if I was caught intruding upon it, I would not live to tell anyone about it. The coven wars weren't about _land_ exactly, but rather, they were about hunting grounds, and I was already avoiding the cities where their prey lived. Well, hunting grounds and vengeance. The loss of a mate was not something that our kind ever got over, and the war had caused many deaths. Except for missing my parents, I was, for once, grateful for my solitary existence. I would never have to experience the pain of the loss of a mate if I never had one to lose.

I was a much faster runner than I was a swimmer, and I was anxious for the trip to be over, even though I had only just started. Traveling among the various northern cities I'd hunted in for four years, I'd never once worried about my safety. Even when deciding to leave a city after coming across the scent of another vampire, I hadn't worried that I would be killed. I never got close enough to hear their minds, and I was sure that by the time they smelled me, I was already in the next town.

Now, running across the southern plains, I was skittish, constantly expecting to see an army rise up in front of me, despite the lack of nearby prey. Unable to decide between speed and stealth, I kept wavering between the two options. Deciding I was better off running through the open plains than swimming so close to any populated areas, I made it nearly to the border between Texas and Mexico before I scented them. Vampires. More than one. Many more. I smelled their trail carefully. It wasn't exactly fresh, perhaps a day old. That didn't make me want to stick around, though.

Moving more slowly, lest I come across them too fast for me to avoid, I crept south, listening as far as I could stretch with my gift. Gratefully hearing only silence, it was all I could do not to give in to my panic and run back north. Their scent was all over, and I had no other choices but to follow them or go back north and give up on ever finding my parents.

A gust of wind brought a new scent to me, one I was unfamiliar with. It was horrible and toxic, an icy stench that burned my nose. Cresting a low hill, I saw a column of smoke, and identified it as the source of the burning I smelled, but the smoke was an odd, unnaturally purple color.

Curiosity warred with caution and won, and I crept slowly closer until I caught the minds I'd been listening for.

… _get every piece…_

… _only counting twelve… where're the others?_

… _should be one more at least…_

… _bastard took off with my arm!_

_...well, where'dya kill 'im, after?_

_...didn't... coward ran off..._

_...where'dya see 'im last, then..._

_...Here!_

_...shitoutta luck brother..._

_...otta keep better tracka yer limbs, slacker..._

_...break it up, boys. Save the fighting for the enemies, or you'll find yourselves missing more than an arm._

_...All the arms we found are in that pile..._

_...Wait! Don't burn 'em, yet…_

I could see through their eyes, and the scene was horrifying. I was witnessing the aftermath of what had apparently been a battle between two vampire armies. Bits and pieces of vampires were twitching on the ground, a pile of heads were moving their mouths without making any sounds, and a couple of vampires were snarling at each other. They crouched down and circled each other until one of the others shoved them apart. I saw one of them spy his missing arm as it crawled toward him across the ground. He reattached the twitching thing, and I watched, horrified and fascinated as he regained control of the limb, moving his fingers experimentally.

My entire body seemed to be aching and stinging. An unpleasant warmth, quite different from what I felt after drinking, was spreading through my torso and down my legs. Deciding I'd seen more than enough, I backed away, carefully listening for any minds that were not gathered around the pile of burning limbs.

Once I'd gained enough distance, I continued my sprint south, reaching the river that separated Texas from Mexico at last. Without hesitating, I dove in. I'd discarded my shoes long ago, having run holes through them in the first two days. I knew that by using the river instead of going across the land that I was adding extra miles, but knowing the distance I was already going to have to travel, I considered the trade off of not running across more of the southerners more than worth the extra time.

I stayed in the river, only leaving it to skirt a couple of dams and the larger cities that lay along it. The blood that was in those cities called to me, and the red-eyed monster fought against my control, but I resisted the temptation, far more concerned with the covens whom I knew claimed the cities than with the humans I no longer wanted to kill. I spent those few times I left the water on constant alert for the scent of more southerners, but I only came across old trails.

The Rio Grande emptied into the Gulf of Mexico, but I didn't follow it all the way to the coast. The humans liked to live along the shores, and there were too many humans for my comfort living by the delta. Though Esme had not liked the idea of swimming to Brazil so many years earlier, she hadn't seen the aftermath of a battle of vampires such as I recently had. Nor had she been as concerned with accidentally killing any innocent humans, trusting Carlisle and myself to stop her.

Considering what few options were available to me, I thought the coastal waters were the preferable way to travel and headed for an unoccupied stretch of beach. My entire being was focused only on reaching my destination. I swam along what humans would likely consider to be beautiful beaches, but I was oblivious to the sights. Miles out to sea, far enough not to hear any minds, but close enough to follow the coast, the only things I wanted to see were my parent's faces, to look into their golden eyes once again.

There were many miles of forests along the coast, and I struck back inland several times to hunt, finding the panthers that I caught to be as tasty as the lion had been. When the coastline began a sharp veer toward the east, I decided to cut across the narrow strip of land and follow the western edge of Central America the rest of the way to South America. The short run was uneventful, for which I was grateful. My one encounter with a vampire army was enough to last me for the rest of my life.

Finally reaching the southern continent, I took off inland, keeping my southeasterly path toward island that lay off the Brazilian coast. The going was slow, due to the thick jungle growth and the occasional tribes of innocent humans that lay in my path. However, the animals were plentiful and varied, with even the peaceful herbivores having a distinct and unusual flavor.

Two months after running away from the priest who had nearly been my first innocent victim, I stood on the shore just east of the growing city of Rio de Janeiro. I was used to navigating to the island using the ship's compass. Swimming along the coast had been easy; the land itself had been my guide. Swimming out to sea, where the shifting currents could alter my direction was another matter, and I sat on the beach, staring out to sea for hours, worrying.

The southern sky was different than the north's. I had spent my nights over the past years not looking skyward, intent only on finding humans to drink. However, during my time with my parents on our island, we had spent many nights watching the unfamiliar stars until I knew the southern constellations as well as the northern ones.

Gathering my courage, I reminded myself that I was immortal, and being swept out to sea would only be annoying, not deadly. If I lost my way, I'd just have to try again. As soon as the sun set and the stars that formed the constellation Crux began to twinkle, I strode into the ocean. Swimming on my back out to sea, I let the stars show me the way home.

When at last I stood in the sand on Isle Esme, I could have wept with joy. I was _home_. I thought I might be content to spend the rest of my eternity on the island where my parents had said their vows of eternal love for each other, where the boy I had once been had helped them to build a home.

I watched the sun rise, and smelled the familiar scents of the island: the salty tang of the ocean, the contrasting fresh water from the many falls and spring-fed pools, the sweet scent of growing and rotting fruit, and so many different types of flowers. Since Esme had spent months here as a newborn, we had stocked the island with peccary, an animal very similar in appearance to - if somewhat smaller than - wild boar that was native to the jungle around Rio, and which had been easy to import. They were an interesting flavor mixture of predator and prey. Though not exactly vicious, they could be ferocious and potentially deadly if a human were to harass them. They lived on the plethora of fruits and vegetables that were native to our island, and I could smell them, too, on the breeze.

Except for when I went hunting for the peccary – which was less like hunting than simply strolling into the forest to find a meal – I stood by the ocean, listening to the rhythmic waves. The sound was cleansing, healing. The ocean waters were the blood of the Earth, and the waves were the sound of her pulse, driven by her breaths of wind and the pull of the moon. I refused to allow myself to think on my past four years and all of the human blood I had drunk, or what I would say to my parents when they arrived. That they may never return was something I also refused to consider. They _had_ to come back!

Carlisle and Esme's faces were constantly on my mind. I missed his smile. I missed her laugh. I only pictured the memory of their happy faces, and was completely unprepared for the image of Carlisle's unhappy face presenting itself to me. His forehead was creased in a frown, and his mouth was tight and drawn down at the corners.

"… _why you keep coming here, Carlisle. It doesn't feel right."_

Gasping, I was stunned to hear my mother's voice. It was low and disapproving, unlike the sweet trilling laughter I usually imagined.

I saw his face turn to look at me, and saw Esme's eyes staring back. Holding myself rigid, I realized they were _here!_ Fear took me, and I nearly sprinted into the ocean. I knew only too well that my eyes would betray me. I'd seen their toxic orange color when I'd gazed into the still pools, washing off the blood of my prey. I was glad that at least they were no longer the vivid red of a human hunter, but I knew that they would know that I had _been_ one.

" _Nothing feels right,"_ he muttered.

" _Coming here won't help you,"_ she insisted.

" _Well what do you suggest? That I pretend to be happy? You know me too well to be fooled, Esme."_

I saw the image of their boat as he stepped onto the dock we had built. It wasn't our sailboat as I would have expected. Surely this dinghy had traveled no further than from Rio to the island.

" _I'm worried about what coming here again will do to you, Carlisle. I know only too well what it is like to lose a child."_

" _I know you do, dearest."_ I saw him pull her against his frame. _"You have lost a son as well."_

" _I've lost_ two _sons_."

He sighed. _"I can't explain it, Esme, but I can't deny it, either. The island calls to me. When we're here, I can almost imagine that he never left."_

I watched through my mother's eyes as he released her, and walked up the path toward the house we'd built.

" _But he did. You need to face the fact that you may never see him again."_

" _No! I refuse to believe that!"_

" _You're in denial, Carlisle. You're a doctor; surely you can diagnose yourself, too."_

" _Esme, I spent over a century traveling. I met other vampires many times. Often we would run into each other hundreds of miles away from where we had last met. I can't believe that we'll never see him again. It's just not possible."_

" _I understand why you think so, really I do! And I have no problem with continuing to travel if that's what you need. But not_ here!"

He stopped walking and turned around to stare at her. I could see his surprise at her angry tone.

" _I'm hurting you, aren't I?"_

She hurried to wrap her arms around his waist. _"Never,"_ she said, fervently.

" _But coming here is,"_ he insisted.

She didn't deny it.

" _It's only that… I feel so close to him here."_

" _That's the problem,"_ she whispered.

" _It feels like he's not gone when we're here. Like he's just visiting the city and will be back soon, bursting with excitement and stories of the things he'd seen."_ He laughed softly, and I closed my eyes at the pain I knew my absence had caused him. _"I almost expect him to be in the house, waiting for us. I can smell him in the lilacs you planted."_ He reached for one of the flowers she'd lined the path with. _"In the scent of the sun."_ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the very scents he was describing to her. He opened them to look into hers with an expression of astonishment. _"Honey."_

" _What?"_

" _I can smell him here."_

" _Yes, you were just saying that."_

" _No! I mean, I can smell_ him. **Here!"** _EDWARD?!_

 _EDWARD?!_ she echoed.

He sprinted up the path toward the house we'd built, but I hadn't gone in. It had felt wrong, somehow. However, I had gone to stand near it, to look at the house I had helped to build, and to touch the walls, and he could smell me there, too. Esme was by his side instantly, a look of excitement on her face that matched his own. Following my trail, they ran around the house toward the beach.

I couldn't move, though my muscles trembled with conflicting desires. I wanted to run to meet them. I wanted to run into the water and swim away before they could see what I had become. Fighting both of those needs, I stood completely still, not even breathing, a marble statue on the beach, with my back to the island, my face toward the ocean, and my eyes closed, watching through theirs as they burst from the jungle onto the sandy shore.

They stood still for only a moment before Esme moved to run to me, but Carlisle reached for her, stopping her from coming to me. I saw myself in his mind and I looked _awful_. The pants I was wearing had once been part of a fine suit, but my journey had torn them to shreds. They were now a ragged pair of shorts. I'd discarded my shirt somewhere off the coast of Central America – the rag had been doing me no good. My shoes were long gone, my socks as well, and my hair was a tangled mess. Standing on the beach in the sunlight, my skin sparkled so brightly that I looked like I was on fire.

Carlisle took in my rigid frame, knowing that I knew they were there. Slowly, he gripped Esme's hand and walked toward me, stopping only a few feet behind me. I had missed them so much! I had grown so used to the empty hole inside of me that I hadn't even realized what I'd been missing until suddenly I wasn't. In that moment, I had a glimpse of what it must feel like to lose a mate. My love for my parents overflowed, and I was filled with joy at their presence, and terror that they would turn me away.


	12. Forgiven

**Forgiven**

"Edward?" Carlisle whispered.

I tried to speak, but couldn't make my mouth work. My arms were folded across my chest as though I were holding myself together.

"Edward. We've missed you."

Finally moving, I tilted my head in his direction, just slightly. I hadn't breathed yet, afraid to allow myself to smell him, but there was still air in my lungs. "I missed you, too."

"Please turn around, my son. Let me look at you."

 _My son,_ he'd called me. I'd wanted to hear those words for so long! Unable to deny him, I turned slowly, keeping my eyes closed and my face averted. He took in my expression, the fact that I wouldn't meet his eyes, and I knew that he knew.

 _It doesn't matter,_ he thought, firmly, but I wasn't sure if he was thinking it to me, or to himself. Sighing, I lifted my face toward his and met his golden eyes. I felt the shock in both of their minds at the toxic color and closed them again quickly, ashamed.

 _Orange! Not red, not black, orange!_ "Edward," he whispered, again. "Oh, my son."

Unable to help myself, I felt my face twisting and threw myself at his feet, my body shaking. "Father!" I cried as I had done in front of the human priest. "I'm s-s-sorry. Forgive me, _please!"_

Instantly, I felt two pairs of arms encircle me, and the cries I had fought before tore from me as I clutched at him. The pain I had denied for four years, the pain I hadn't _allowed_ myself to feel, crashed over me. I was thirty years old, I had told myself. I wasn't a child, I had insisted. In my arrogance, I had called myself a savior, a protector. In reality, I was a teenage killer, worse than any of the men I had killed, and this fact was glaringly apparent to me as I sobbed in my parents' arms.

When a creature's body requires no rest and sheds no tears, grief can go on without end. A human's body would have shut itself down eventually, the tears would have been cleansing, and sleep would have come to heal them. I had no such relief. I would never sleep, never feel exhaustion, and could conceivably have wept until the end of time.

I had no idea how long they held me as I wept; I only knew that they _did_ hold me, and that they cried along with me. Eventually I became aware that I was begging them to forgive me over and over. And each time, even as I spoke the words, Carlisle and Esme insisted that they did forgive me, that they loved me, that they always had, that they always would. Some time after that, I quieted, my body stilled from the sobs that shook me, and my breathing evened. Inhaling deeply, I smelled cinnamon, nutmeg, and caramel, the scents of my parents, the scents of home.

Pushing myself away from them, I turned to sit and face the ocean once more. They sat on either side of me, Esme on my left, Carlisle my right. I watched the sun rise, and thought back to that first morning. To watching the sun hit my father's face, and how I'd thought him an angel. To how I hadn't wanted to be a demon. What a fool I'd been.

"Have you come back to us, Edward?" Carlisle asked as the sun rose higher.

It was a moment before I could respond. "Would you still want me?"

"How can you ask that?" Esme demanded. "Of course we do!"

"Even knowing that I'm a murderer?" I spat the bitter words.

"That doesn't matter," Carlisle said, firmly.

Shocked, I looked at him, my wide orange eyes meeting his calm golden ones. "How can it not matter? _I'm a killer!"_

He looked past me toward his mate. "Esme, love, would you go to Rio and buy Edward some new clothes?"

She frowned, but nodded and stood. Before she walked away, she placed a hand on my head. "We love you, Edward. Please stay with us."

I couldn't answer.

When she walked away, he sighed, and I saw him remember his days before me. He remembered his crushing loneliness as he wandered the world, looking for another like himself, and finding no one.

"I knew long before I saw you that if ever I decided to make a vampire, the chances of that vampire deciding to follow my diet were slim."

"Carlisle," I interrupted him. "I didn't decide to follow or not follow your diet. I decided to _kill."_

"I know."

Uncomprehending, I stared at him.

"Knowing that any child I created would prefer to live in the same way as every other vampire ever created, still I chose to make you a vampire. Knowing that I was dooming you to an eternity of adolescence, that you might hate me, that you might even choose to kill me for doing so, _still,"_ he nodded to himself, "I decided to make you a vampire."

"Please tell me you aren't trying to take the blame for my actions," I groaned.

"No. But I do take responsibility for _mine."_

Gritting my teeth, I stared back out at the sea.

"Can you truly tell me that you don't hate me for turning you into a vampire?"

Shaking my head, I said, "I know why you did."

He pressed me, "That doesn't answer my question."

"No," I sighed. "It doesn't."

"I know how you feel about what I did to you," he whispered. "You tried to hide it, but I knew."

I frowned, confused. How could he believe that I hated him? He was my father and I loved him. Surely he knew that! Finding myself incapable of speaking those words, I said instead, "I don't hate you, Carlisle."

"You hate what you are. You believe yourself to be dead. One of the very first things you said to me was that I had killed you. How can you not hate me?"

I met his eyes and saw the pain in them, saw the same expression he'd been wearing when Esme watched him on the small boat as it approached the island.

"I tried to fix it. Tried to give you back the life you would have had."

" _Fix_ it?! I was _dying_. Nothing you could have done could have prevented that fate. My life was over; I had no other future."

"No. Your _human_ life was over. And you are right; there was nothing that could have prevented that."

"Then what was there to fix, Carlisle?" I asked, annoyed.

"You had a hole in your life that I could not fill. You were never close to your father… but your _mother – "_

"You said you couldn't save her."

"I couldn't. So I tried to give you a new one. I wanted you to have a mother again, since I couldn't save Elizabeth."

"You changed Esme because you loved her," I denied.

"No." He sighed. "And yes. I was selfish, Edward. I wanted what I could never have had otherwise. I wanted a family. I changed you without your consent, just as I changed her."

"She wasn't exactly in any condition to ask."

"And nor were you when I took it upon myself to play God."

"And, like God, you gave me rules to guide me. You showed me how to be good, despite what I was, what I am. And, like Him, you gave me the freedom to choose my path. And look at what I chose!"

"Your choices were a direct result of mine. If I had not changed you, you would never have killed. I accept responsibility for my choices, just as I expect you to take responsibility for yours," he said, firmly.

"How?" I muttered.

"By being honest with me, for one thing."

"About what?"

"Let us start with why you are here."

"I was looking for you."

"But why did you come to Isle Esme? Why did you not go back to the house in Minnesota?"

Shocked, I stared at him. "I did. You weren't there!"

"You did not go inside?"

"No. It felt… wrong."

"How could it be wrong to go into your own home?"

"It wasn't mine anymore."

"You don't think we would just have abandoned you, do you? Even after I followed you to the river, even after I _knew_ that you were not coming back, I refused to believe it." _And I was right, because you have returned._

"I thought you would just go on with your lives. You had each other. You didn't need me hanging about, making you miserable."

"How could you think that?"

"I saw your minds, Carlisle. You were happy together. But when I was around, all I did was upset you both."

"Edward." He shook his head, and the expression of pain crossed his face again. "We were happy because we were a family. We were only upset because you were not happy. Whatever it was that you needed, we were not providing."

"Not so." I shook my head firmly. He had given me everything. I hadn't realized just how much until I had it no longer.

"How else could I explain why you left?"

I knew of plenty of explanations. Arrogance. Stupidity. Vengeance. Anger. "I was sure you would know," I said in a whisper.

"I don't have your gift, Edward."

"Gift," I scoffed.

"Yes," he said, firmly. "How often did I wish that you would share your thoughts with me?"

"Many times," I admitted.

"Vampires do not change, my son. And that wish certainly has not."

I laughed softly at hearing my words repeated back to me. I knew now, only too well, that those words weren't exactly true. "Sometimes we change."

He watched me for a moment, trying to decipher my expression. _Perhaps we do. And yet, you remain as silent as ever._

"What _can_ I say? I left. I killed. I tried to go back. But there's no going back."

"We can all go back. Together. It is still our home. No place Esme and I moved since has felt that way. We stayed for months after you left! When we finally did leave, I was only willing to do so after Esme suggested that we leave you a letter telling you where we had gone."

Scoffing at my stupidity, I laughed sourly and shook my head. "I couldn't go in. Without you and Esme, it was just an empty building. One where I had spent far too much time being angry and rude. Where I avoided you instead of seeking your guidance. Where you tried to help me, and I refused to listen. But I heard you anyways."

Looking down at the sand, I picked up a handful and watched it flow between my fingers.

"And you were right, of course," I whispered. "I turned myself into a monster."

"Oh, Edward. Please, don't take words that I said in anger to heart!"

"Why not? They were true. I only have to look into a mirror to know it."

"Is Esme a monster?" he demanded.

Taking a deep breath, I remembered what I'd come to understand while I fought for control of my body. "The difference is that she acted out of instinct. I _chose_ to kill. I acted out of anger and hate."

"Your eyes are orange, not red."

"What's your point?"

"You've chosen to stop."

"After four years!"

He took a shaky breath. "Were you killing humans the _entire_ time?"

"Yes," I whispered.

I could feel the surprise in him. "How many did you kill?" he asked, matching my whispered volume.

"I don't know. Many."

"A hundred?"

Scoffing in disbelief at his underestimation, I yelled, "Carlisle! I killed more than a hundred men in my first two months alone!"

The breath rushed out of him. _So many!_ "You lived solely on humans, then? You did not drink animals at all?"

I felt the sobs wanting to start again and turned my face away, shaking my head in shame.

"No." He gripped my arm. "We need to finish this now."

"What more is there?"

Unable to voice his question, he thought, _Women? Children?_

"No!" I yelled again, shaking my head back and forth in denial. "That was the whole point!"

Frowning, he watched me for a minute, taking in my angry expression. "I don't understand."

I growled, "You remember the human boy? Zach? And his mother?"

"Are you saying that if I had let you kill the father that would have been the end of it?" he demanded.

"No," I muttered, knowing that I would not have been able to stop with him.

_Then – what?_

"I thought…" I sighed and shook my head. "No. I _lied_ to myself. I told myself that if I only killed men like that one, then I'd be doing good, that it would mean I wasn't evil. I told myself I was saving people by killing the men who harmed them."

_Oh, my son…_

Fighting back another sob, I looked away from him once more.

"Don't shut me out, Edward," he said, firmly.

Shaking my head once more, I muttered, "I'm not."

He took a deep breath, hesitating. "Zach's father is dead. You knew that before you left. What made you go after others, whether they were like him or not? You didn't know them."

"But I did," I disagreed.

"Hearing their thoughts doesn't mean – "

"No, Carlisle. I knew _him."_ I was unable to keep the fierce growl out of my voice. After four years, and causing his death, _still_ I despised the man my mother had been married to! If he had stood in front of me at that very moment, I had little doubt that I would have killed him again.

"Who?"

"Charles," I growled.

I heard his sharp intake of breath, and saw his body grow completely still. _Charles? Esme's husband?_

Slowly, I nodded.

_You killed him?_

I nodded again. "He was my first. You say you wanted Esme to be my mother? Well, she is. Zach's father was just a representation of the man I really wanted to kill. And then, once I did…" I swallowed hard, remembering how close I'd come to just grabbing random strangers and drinking them. "I couldn't stop," I whispered.

"You didn't just kill him. You _drank_ him."

Surprised at the distinction, I agreed, "Of course I did."

He sighed my name.

"What?"

"The time I spent with the Volturi taught me many things. Among them, is that human blood is addictive. It's why they have to range so far for their meals. If they allowed any of the coven or members of the guard to kill the humans in the city, there would soon be none left. Importing humans in the way that they do doesn't just keep their secret. It keeps their feeding habits in check."

Shaking my head, I muttered, "That doesn't excuse my actions."

"Perhaps not, but it does help me to understand them."

"Enlighten me. Please," I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

_Don't be rude, Edward._

"Sorry," I mumbled, sighing. After everything, I was still the eternal teenager.

He nodded. "You drank a human without any of your own blood left to dilute its potency. I don't think you really realized what it would do to you."

I thought over his words, and felt to my core the truth in them. It hadn't just been a craving, or thirst, or a need to taste something stronger than deer. My body had demanded human blood. The slight exposures I'd had from Esme's memory, to my classmates when they'd bled, to even Zach's senses as he tasted his own blood had created in me a need that I hadn't been able to satisfy with animal blood.

Yet I'd fought against that need for years. I couldn't blame an addiction to something I'd never truly tasted as the reason I went after Charles. That had been hatred, pure and simple. And it was inexcusable.

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head again, unsure if I was disagreeing with him, or answering his statement.

"I killed Charles out of hatred," I growled.

"Still, it's a wonder you didn't go on a killing spree."

"I _did,"_ I insisted.

_But… I thought you said –_

"I limited myself to criminals, but I didn't – couldn't – limit the number. Not at first, at any rate."

His voice was stern as he insisted, "Criminals are people, too."

"Believe me, Carlisle. I am well aware of that fact."

_How long has it been since the last one?_

"I'm not sure. I… lost track of time. Two months, at least. Maybe three."

_Why did you stop?_

"How can you ask me that? Isn't is obvious? I don't _want_ to be a monster," I said in a bitter voice. I knew it was too late; I _was_ a monster. There was nothing that could ever change that fact.

"I ask because I need to know that you will never choose to kill again."

My jaw dropped and I stared at him.

"An accident is one thing," he said firmly. "But it was the anger that was eating at you. I need to know that if you ever encounter another man like Charles again – and you will – that you will not – "

"No, Carlisle," I stopped him. "I'm done with that life."

"Such an easy answer." His voice was flat, angry.

Playing with the powdery sand again, I said, "If I never leave here, I'll never have to worry about it."

He scoffed. "You can't spend eternity on this island."

"Why not? I like it here. It's quiet, except for the birds and the sounds of the ocean."

"This island can't sustain the kind of prey population it would take to keep you fed, for one thing."

I already knew the truth in that statement. If I wasn't careful, it wouldn't be too much longer before I depleted the island completely. "There are no humans here," I whispered, ashamed.

" _That's_ why you came here," he said, his words a sure statement of fact.

"It's not the only reason."

"How can I trust you if you don't trust yourself?"

Bitterly, I muttered, "I don't know how you could either way, no matter how I felt about it."

"Because how you feel about it will determine what you do about it. You told me before that you wanted your life to mean something. What meaning is there to isolating yourself for eternity?"

I shook my head.

"Come home with us," he insisted.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his words. "And then what?" I whispered. "Go to high school again where I can accidentally kill innocent _children?"_

"No. We'll desensitize you just as if you were a newborn. And when you can trust yourself again – which I believe will take less time than you might think – you can continue your life as though you never got sick to the point of death."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"College. A career." His lips twitched. "Maybe even a girl."

I scowled at him.

"The things you told me you would have had if your human life had continued."

"Carlisle, the only three vampires in the history of the world who have ever lived on animal blood are right here, and of those, only _one_ has never killed a human. I don't want a girl who is a killer any more than a girl who isn't would want _me."_

He shrugged. "College and a career, then."

"I'm too young to have a career."

"There are _ways,_ Edward. We can fudge some paperwork, have you run a business remotely. If you'd like, you could have that business fund a shelter for women who find themselves in Esme's situation. That would keep you away from humans while keeping you involved with helping them. Or something else, if that doesn't appeal to you. There are so many options for you to bring meaning into your life. Let us help you find them."

Picturing what his words described, I smiled. "That actually sounds really nice."

I met his golden eyes, and saw my smiling face in his mind. I ignored the orange color of mine, knowing that soon they would be gold again, too. Unable to stop myself, I reached for him. My father hugged me back, and I felt a glimmer of hope growing in me. He was offering me my life back, and I so desperately wanted to take it. I tried to hold back my fears and to trust him. He had forgiven me so easily, but I knew that I had to earn the right to call myself his son again.

Firmly, I resolved never to kill again. I didn't care what it would take, or how long I lived, or what type of human I came across. Esme had been right. No matter how richly I believed a human might deserve it, causing their deaths would cost me too much to be worth it, even if it meant saving someone's life.

But, though I had committed myself to not _being_ a monster anymore, there was still one inside of me, and I knew that he would forever be watching, waiting for me to slip. One day, he was sure, there would come a human whom I would be unable to resist, and then he would feast once more.

And it would be _glorious._


	13. Epilogue

**Author's Note**

After all of the angst of Edward's rebellion, I thought it would be nice to end the story with a bit of fluff. As I'm sure you all know, all of my writing so far has been from Edward's viewpoint. Writing Dawn has been tricky just because I just don't know his brothers as well as I feel that I know the rest of the family. It was suggested to me that I try my hand at writing a one-shot from one of their viewpoints, but I thought that my first venture out of Edward's head should be from someone I was a little more comfortable with than Emmett. So I thought I'd try a Carlisle pov chapter!

The "glorious" line from the last chapter was supposed to be the end of this story, but I had an image in my head that wouldn't go away. I played with it for a while, but it wasn't a scene Edward seemed to want to tell. However, when I thought about it from Carlisle's perspective, things fell into place.

So, I hope you all enjoy my very first non-Edward chapter :-D

~L

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Carlisle's POV**

So many of my days had been spent like this. As an immortal being, I was often surprised by how much of my eternity I spent _waiting._ I was a patient man, but even I had my limits. If I totaled the number of hours, I had probably spent decades simply standing in place, staring out of a window, gazing at the way the sun lit the world around me. For much of it, I had been alone. But I was alone no longer! I was a husband and a father, and my son had returned home at last.

Careful not to break the glass, I placed my hand against the windowpane. My son. How I had missed him! Even knowing that he could read my mind, I wondered if he would ever understand how glad I was to have him back, how I had grieved while he was gone. But no, I shouldn't think such things. I had hurt only because I loved him so. Now that he had returned, I was filled with happiness and needn't suffer any longer. Yet, even so, I grieved because _he_ was suffering.

Would he ever forgive himself? I already had. Indeed, I had forgiven him before I even created him. I knew Esme had forgiven him already, as well. Yet Edward had not. Day after day he sat as he was now, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees, his back rigid and straight, and his face toward the ocean. I had no doubt that if I could see them, his eyes would be closed and his face lined like no teenager's should ever be. They weren't wrinkles; the lines would smooth away if he would ever relax. They were lines of pain, and just knowing they were there caused my silent heart to ache.

Turning my head slightly, I listened to a sound I had not heard in years: the angelic lilting of my wife singing. A smile spread across my face. My sweet Esme was singing again! Ah, music. Truly a gift from God for His children to make in our efforts to be closer to Him.

There had been a time when I had been surrounded by music on a daily basis. Once he had rediscovered the piano, Edward had taken to humming, singing, whistling, or even drumming his fingers against any surface as though it were an instrument he could play. It had been all I could do to hide my idea from him when it had occurred to me that he should have a piano of his own. What had made matters worse was that we had still been on the island at the time. The climate here was not a good one for a piano. Soon after I made Esme my wife, we had returned to the States as a true family, and I had immediately begun to search for the perfect piano to give to him.

Every day after that, our house had been filled with music. Psalms had been his passion at first, and I knew that had stemmed from his human mother, Elizabeth. I wished I could see the woman again. I would thank her for giving Edward such a musical background, but even more so, I wished that I might thank her for the gift of her son. She had placed him in my care, and I had done my best to be a good father. Despite the past four years, I didn't think I had failed. Even in doing wrong, he had tried to do good.

And now he was home.

Though his voice alone was music to my ears, he had yet to embrace music again. I couldn't wait to hear him play when we got home. If we could ever convince him to leave the island! It was ironic how I longed to hear him play now, when the last times I had heard him play, the sounds had filled me with dread. I hadn't understood why at the time, but I did now, only too well.

His music had always been an expression of his soul. How he could doubt that he had one, I would never understand. He had one of the most vibrant souls of any creature I had ever met. That vibrancy had come shining through in his music.

The Psalms had quickly been followed by Beethoven, Rachmaninov, and Tchaikovsky. From there, he had branched out to the newer sounds of America's musical wellspring. Blues and jazz had flowed from his talented fingers while I had watched in amazement. With every new song he had learned, I had rejoiced. My son took such little pleasure in the life which I had given him. Though I never regretted my decision to change him, I did regret his feelings on the matter. I had been acutely aware when that discontent began to make its way into his music.

Though he played every song he could get his hands on, it was the music from his own brilliant mind that I loved to hear the most. At first joyful and playful, he had composed songs for Esme, for our family, for the happiness he said he felt watching us together. The years had passed for us, just as they did for the humans, but though my teenage son never truly changed, his music had. The songs began to sound sad, and then they had turned angry. I couldn't understand his anger, and the stubborn young man refused to admit that anything was wrong.

"I'm fine," he would say whenever I tried to talk to him.

I had watched with dread in my heart as his golden eyes darkened. I had known that he fed. Surely the numbers of animals which he had killed that year exceeded what I could even guess at. Eventually, his eyes had stopped lightening at all. For months, they were only black. I feared that he planned on leaving us, but when I finally gathered my courage to ask him, he'd seemed genuinely surprised, and had denied the possibility.

And then he had disappeared for two weeks.

Ah, my troubled son. If only I had really understood what he had been going through. I had seen his passion, but had not understood the fire that fed it. If only he had talked to me! Angrily shaking my head, I chided myself. That was not true. He had tried! I simply had not heard. Yet at every turn, he had insisted that he was fine. The closer I tried to hold him to me, the farther away he pushed himself, until that final awful day when he had left. I had stood then, as I was doing now, staring out of the window, waiting on my son to return.

My hand clenched into a fist. Now, he had returned at last, but though his body was there, only meters away from me, he was as distant and unreachable as ever. No longer burning with anger, now he was consumed with guilt, and I had no idea how to help him. Esme had tried, too, but I could see that talking to our son about the people she had killed did nothing to ease the guilt over his own murders.

Knowing he could hear my thoughts, I tried not to think of the men, but I couldn't help myself. Numbers ran through my mind constantly. When I'd asked him how many people he had killed, he would only say, "Many." Many sons and brothers and fathers who were dead because of my own son. Because of me. Because of my choice to turn the dying young man into a vampire, like myself. Many men who had done evil things and had paid the ultimate price for their sins. Many men who had killed, who had raped, who had abused those who trusted them.

For four years he had been gone. For four years he had killed the worst sort of men, men like my own wife's ex-husband. Indeed, he had killed the very man who had made my sweet Esme's life Hell. I had felt a horrible fire within me whenever I had thought of the man over the years. Strangely, that fire was gone now. In its place was only sorrow. Edward had killed that man, and then had gone on to kill many more. I found myself obsessing over the number. A hundred men in the first two months alone, he'd admitted to me. If he had continued with that amount, then my son had killed well over two thousand men.

Two thousand!

No. I shook my head. He said he had limited the number later. As the bloodlust had become manageable, he had stopped killing as many. But no matter how I wrapped the numbers about in my head, I couldn't deny that he had killed upwards of a thousand men.

I understood now, of course. Now that it was too late. Now that I could do nothing about it. But just because I could understand it, that did not mean I could help him to heal. I was a doctor! And yet I could not even heal my own son.

Warm hands wrapped around my waist and my senses were abruptly filled with caramel. I turned in my wife's arms, smiling into her golden eyes. Barely touching her, I brushed my fingers against the cheek which her ex-husband had so often struck. How could any man ever hit such a gentle creature? Knowing that it had happened had been bad enough, but imagining such things could be nothing compared with seeing it, as Edward's gift had allowed - or forced - him to do. Oh yes, I fully understood why he had killed the man.

How many men had he killed?

There was an opposing side to that question. One which I tried not to consider, but the thought refused to be denied.

How many people had he saved?

How many women, like my Esme, would never have to feel pain or fear again because my son had taken those men away? How many women and children, in alleys and in the safety of their homes had been saved from a terrible fate? How many innocents, going about their lives, still had lives to live because my son had stopped the ones who would have harmed them? Yes, I knew why my son had killed them. I could not condone it, but I did understand it.

"He still hasn't moved?" Esme glanced over my shoulder to where our son sat on the beach.

"No," I murmured. "He is not getting better."

"How often did he tell me that vampires don't change?" she asked herself. "You are waiting for something that will not happen, Carlisle."

I sighed and gazed out the window again. I knew that she was right. Change would not come on its own, and as his father, it was up to me to do something about it. Firmly concentrating on the feeling of holding my wife in my arms, I repressed the thought that wanted to surface. Before I could let myself think of the solution to Edward's problem, I had to get to where he could not hear it.

"I'm thirsty."

"The peccary are gone."

My eyes widened. "Gone?"

She nodded. "I'm quite certain he killed the last one a week ago. I've been scouring the island, but I haven't found a single scent trail."

"Well, that settles it. We will just have to go to the mainland. I could use a good panther, anyway." Coming to a decision, I strode out of the house and confronted my son.

"Edward," I began.

"Don't worry about me, Carlisle," he said before I could offer. "I'll be here when you get back."

"You need to hunt, too," I insisted.

His eyes remained closed as he shook his head, just slightly.

 _So stubborn,_ I thought, knowing he could hear me.

I was pleased to see one corner of his mouth twitch in acknowledgement.

"We do not need to go anywhere near the humans."

"Next time, maybe. Or, you could bring something back for me."

"No," I said, firmly. _Once we go down that path, there may be no returning from the precedent that would set._

He shrugged, unconcerned.

"Fine," I agreed, trying to hide my pleasure at his refusal. "But next time, I will insist on it."

He lifted a shoulder again.

Only once Esme and I were miles away from the island did I allow the idea that had been pestering me to come forth. Edward needed to heal, and I was not just his father and a doctor, I was the son of a priest. It was my job to see to it that he recovered from his sins, and I could only think of one way to do it. I had to speak to Edward's soul. I had to touch him in the only place where I knew that he could be reached. I had to give him a gift, the same gift which God had given to His children to bring us closer to Himself.

Meeting my wife's eyes, I grinned at her, aware that it was the first time in years that the expression had truly crossed my face. Unable to help herself, she laughed in response.

"What is it, Carlisle?"

I shook my head, enjoying having a surprise to share. "You will see."

Esme turned from me to grip the rail on the small watercraft which I was steering toward the city. I took pleasure in watching my mate's hair blowing away from her face, and was pleased that the sun was shining, so that I might see her skin glistening. I loved how her beauty shone from within her. The sun, like me, seemed to worship her, and would gather itself about her, turning her into an otherworldly beauty. It didn't matter to me that the light came from an external source; her rainbow radiance came directly from her gentle soul. When she stood in the sunlight, I could feel each place where the sun's rays reflected off of her skin and onto mine.

Lifting my face to the sky, I sent a silent prayer of thanks for being granted, not only such an amazing creature as my wife and mate, but for being given my son, once again. I added a plea that he be forgiven, and that he be allowed to forgive himself.

It was just past twilight when I steered the dinghy into place against the dock. Leaping lightly from the small craft after I secured the sails, Esme took my hand firmly in hers as we made our way toward the jungle that surrounded the city. We hunted quickly, finding the panther which I had been craving and taking the tapir it had been hunting for myself, as well. Watching in amusement, I saw my gentle wife take the life of a huge marsh deer, just as it was settling itself down for the night.

Stated, we returned to the city and I strode straight into the market district, hoping that the store owners had not decided to close early. It had been far too sunny lately for us to venture into the city during the day. To my relief, the lights were still on and the door was propped open to invite in the cooling breeze. I could not hold back my smug grin at the sound of Esme's gasp when she realized where I was headed.

Once my purchases were made, I could hardly restrain myself to human speed as we returned to our boat.

"Do you really think it will work, Carlisle?" Esme turned her worried eyes upon me as the boat cut through the light waves.

"I can only hope."

She gnawed on her lip, looking back in the direction of the island where we had left our son.

"Do not let him see," I cautioned her.

"I won't," she assured me, and I saw a line form between her eyes. The crease showed how hard she was concentrating on _not_ thinking of what was on both of our minds.

I laughed aloud, enjoying the challenge my talented son brought to our lives.

"What?" She cocked her head at me, curiously.

"Do not think of the elephant's left knee."

She giggled. "Hmm, but elephants have such lovely knees. Especially their left ones."

Pulling the dinghy back up to our dock, I grabbed the packages, concentrating firmly on the image of new clothes, and sprinted back to the beach house. Only once inside, did I call for him.

_Edward!_

I saw his head tilt slightly in my direction, but he didn't leave the beach.

_Edward Cullen. Please, come here._

His shoulders rose and fell in what I was sure was a sigh of resignation, but he dutifully stood and strode up the beach and into the home we had built. Trying to control my excitement, I was pleased to see a look of confused curiosity on his face when he joined Esme and me in the living room. The low coffee table was covered with a thick blanket. He eyed it, but I was firmly keeping my mind on the recent hunt.

"What is it, Carlisle?"

"I brought you something."

He automatically licked his lips, confirming that he was more thirsty than he would admit to. "I thought you said you wouldn't." His nostrils flared, sniffing for an animal under the blanket. Not finding one, he tilted his head, curious again. That was a very good sign.

Not bothering to hide my smile, I whipped off the cover that hid his surprise, and was rewarded with a gasp from him. I watched his face carefully, noting the slight upward turn of his lips, the way the lines of sadness and pain eased from his youthful face, and especially the way his orange tinted eyes lit with interest.

Edward reached a hand out to caress the case, but he didn't open it. I saw his eyes take in the stack of books that lay to one side. Unable to speak, or to tear my eyes away from him, I watched my son's fingers begin to tremble as he reached for the clasp which held the case closed.

He opened it, and the room was filled with the scent of polished wood, velvet, horse hair, and resin.

His eyes were shining with delight when they met mine. "A violin?"

"We can not have a piano here," I explained, "but there is no reason why our house should not be filled with music once again."

"I don't know..." A dark look crossed his features.

"Please, Edward?" Esme pressed him. "For me? I've missed your music."

He didn't touch the instrument, but picked up the first book on the stack, seated himself on the couch, and began to read through it. My silent heart swelled with pleasure at the upward curve to his lips. Though I wanted to stay and bask in the fact that my son was smiling again, I took Esme's hand in mine and gave him the privacy to read without being stared at.

We retreated to the beach near where he had so recently been seated. I took my lovely wife in my arms. Her eyes caught the moonlight, and I knew that she was as overjoyed as I was to know that our son was showing signs of life once again. Knowing he was engrossed in his books, I pulled her into the jungle toward a clearing we had discovered long ago.

The bed of grass and flowers was fragrant on the sultry night air. The palm trees swayed with the light wind, and Esme's caramel scent filled the clearing as the breeze blew through her hair. I could smell my own spicy scent mingling with hers and inhaled deeply, loving the way we complimented each other perfectly.

Far from the house we had built, far from where our son sat, I laid beside Esme under the stars and took her hand in mine. I knew the humans found our touch hard and cold, but to me, she was soft and warm, her temperature perfectly matching mine. Although we had, of course, made love many times over the years since Edward left, and in the weeks since his return, on this night, I felt a joy in her body that I had not experienced in a long time.

Near dawn, we made our way back to the house, and I was rewarded with the plaintive sounds of a violin, singing one long note after another. He was back on the beach, but not seated with his arms around his knees. Now, Edward stood, facing the island, learning the feel of the new instrument. His eyes were closed, his chin was cradled lightly on the rest, the bow held gently between his long fingers, his other hand wrapped around the neck with his fingers spread across the strings.

Glancing through the window of our house, I saw that he had read through every book we had bought. Now, having studied the theory, he was putting what he had learned into practice. I had always been amazed at how he could bring music to life, but he had known how to play the piano as a human, too. This was new, and I rejoiced in the fact that he was embracing the new instrument so fully.

Esme and I watched, enraptured, as Edward learned the feeling of playing each note the violin was capable of making, teaching his fingers the way the chords felt, the way the strings responded, how the bow could be angled and drawn to make different sounds. Though I heard his fingers falter many times, and several of the notes were sour enough to make my teeth ache, he learned from those mistakes, and never stopped his attempts.

Eventually, I heard a sound that made me want to weep with joy. No longer practicing the notes and chords, my son was playing a song - a Psalm that I recognized as the first one he had played on his piano, one he had once told me had been Elizabeth's favorite. Although the song was slow and halting, I watched my son making music again and saw the lines of pain on his face fade away. His lips spread into a true smile that I knew my own mirrored.

Raising my face toward the sky once more, I sent another prayer to God, this time in fervent thanks.

I had no doubt that it would be a long road, but I felt that I might finally have helped him take the first steps toward recovery. Clasping my wife's hand in mine, I looked forward to a happy future for our little family. As God had surely intended, music would heal Edward's soul.

**~The End~**


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